Beneath the Weeping Sky
by CygnusRift
Summary: Loneliness was his companion, his small coven more broken than whole. When Carlisle Cullen comes across an accident scene, his control is put to the test. For the victim, thirty year old Bella Swan, is revealed to be his singer. As Carlisle copes with his bloodlust, a series of troubling events hit the small town of Forks, threatening the very secret he is trying to protect.
1. Chapter 1 - The Chief's Daughter

**Hey, everyone! Thanks for clicking on my fanfic!**

**As the summary and story tags indicate, this is a Carlise/Bella romance where Bella is older. This being an Alternate Universe scenario, you'll find that many details have been changed. Like the coven's history, for instance, and the ages of the characters (everyone is a bit older in this). **

**I don't know how many chapters this story will have, but I'm in it for the long haul. So far, I've been pretty consistent with my progress. The story should be updated on a regular basis. **

**Now for those who cannot stomach the idea of a romance between Dr. Cullen and an older Bella, this story probably isn't for you. **

**For everyone else, welcome! I hope you'll enjoy the journey.**

**CygnusRift **

* * *

**Warning: Rated M for language, adult situations, and eventual lemons.**

**CHAPTER 1**

**THE CHIEF'S DAUGHTER**

_Forks, Washington. September 20__th__, 2017_

"I'm gonna sue your ass, you hear me?" The male voice reverberated throughout the corridor, loud enough to reach half the humans on the ground floor. "I'm gonna sue your entire department!"

It was just past eleven thirty, on a Wednesday evening. One of those rare slow nights in the ER. _A slow night up until now. _

His footfalls echoing against the linoleum, Dr. Carlisle Cullen pushed through the double doors and entered the emergency room where a nurse promptly handed over the newest patient's chart. For the moment, the man in question, thirty-nine year old Jeff Harris, was the only patient in the fast track treatment area.

_One of our regulars_, Carlisle thought as he swept by the privacy curtain.

A life-long resident of Forks, Mr. Harris was known for brawling in bars and beating his girlfriends. As a result, he was well known to both the staff here at Forks General, and the police officers who were often called to pick him up.

At present, the brown-haired man was sitting on the partially reclined exam table, his legs stretched out before him. One of his boots was on the ground, a sock lying next to it. As was often the case whenever he landed in the ER, his wrists were banded in shiny handcuffs.

"Mr. Harris," Carlisle began as he leafed through the chart. "What seems to be the problem this evening?"

"I'll tell you what the problem is," the man seethed, the tendons of his neck straining as he bugged his eyes at his arresting officers. "Police brutality, that's what! These motherfuckers busted my ankle!"

"You should have thought about that before resisting arrest and assaulting an officer," the younger of the two countered—a sandy-haired fellow Carlisle had never seen before. The name badge on his jacket revealed part of his name. _S. Reed_. "Accidents happen during takedowns," he told the offender.

"Accident my ass!"

Officer Reed opened his mouth to bite back, but his partner, Charlie Swan, spoke first. "Don't waste your breath, Sean. He can threaten all he wants, he's not gonna get anywhere. His arrest is on the dashcam."

The patient's focus shot to the chief. "You know what? Fuck you!"

"Hey!" Charlie warned the future inmate, having had his fill of the man's vitriolic barbs.

An acquaintance of Carlisle, Charlie Swan was the Chief of Police here in town, a position he had occupied for a number of years now, long before Carlisle had moved—or returned rather—to the Olympic Peninsula, less than a year ago.

During that time, the two had crossed paths on a number of occasions, namely when their respective careers intersected. Although Carlisle could not permit himself to form close friendships with the human residents of this community, he rather liked the police chief. Charlie was a good man, taciturn but fair in how he treated people.

That said, the man's patience had limits. "That's enough," Charlie told Mr. Harris when this one continued to curse under his breath. "You want your ankle fixed? Let the doc do his job."

Rounding the exam table, Carlisle nodded to the police chief. "Charlie."

"Dr. Cullen," he replied without looking away from the irate man.

Approaching his mid-fifties, Charlie sported a salt and pepper mustache. Doubtless due to the roughness of his most recent arrest, his hair was mostly disheveled. Lips pursed in annoyance, he held his patience in check by crossing his arms, the heavy fabric of his jacket swishing with the movement.

By the scent in the air, Carlisle knew he had sustained a cut of some kind. Directing his vampiric gaze to the man's graying hairline, he saw the gash in question. As far as cuts went, it was small and shallow. _No stitches, then_. A rinse and a butterfly bandage would do. Filing that away for later, Carlisle set the patient's chart aside. Calmly, he said, "Let's have a look at that ankle, shall we?"

As Mr. Harris finally settled down, the medical examination began with the usual questions. "Can you walk me through what happened?"

As expected, the man ranted some more, complaining that the cops had roughed him up.

"Did your ankle turn in or out?" Carlisle inquired at length.

"In." The patient hissed a breath through gritted teeth, the following exhalation reeking of stale alcohol. Hard liquor to be sure. A combination of whiskey and tequila.

"Did you hear a crack or a pop?"

"How the hell should I know? These two assholes were barking and yelling when they dragged me to the ground." Though Carlisle detested violence of any kind, he understood that these things happened. And his patient was a known offender, a belligerent man with a short fuse and violent tendencies. Cuffing him wouldn't be the easiest job in the world—not for two human cops. Thankfully, the man was restrained now.

Following the examination, where he looked for swelling, deformities, and other such things, Carlisle took out a pen and scribbled his observations on the chart. "I suspect your ankle might be broken." Actually, he didn't just suspect it, he knew. The grinding sound of his ankle bones gave it away. "I'll order an X-ray to be sure. Kathy?" A nod to his head nurse, and this one went to fetch a wheelchair.

Since Mr. Harris only needed one officer to escort him to the radiology department, Carlisle asked Charlie to stick around. "Do you mind if I look at that cut for you?"

Charlie waved a hand. "It's just a scratch."

"Even scratches get infected."

Charlie deliberated for a moment. Relenting with a nod, he moved to one of the empty beds in the ER, and perched himself on the edge as Carlisle fetched the appropriate supplies from a nearby cabinet.

Once he had flushed the dirt from the wound, and cleaned the surrounding area, he applied a dab of antibiotic ointment, saying it would speed up the healing process and prevent infection. Careful not to press too hard, Carlisle then used his gloved fingers to align the edges. "Rumor has it that you're retiring," he said as he affixed the bandage.

"Retiring?" Charlie's surprise quickly gave way to amusement. "Who told you that?"

"Just something I overheard while working the other day."

"Hospitals and gossip are like a package deal, huh?"

Carlisle smiled. "Unfortunately. You plan on sticking around, then?"

"I'm not a young buck anymore, but I still have a few good years left in me yet. Hell no, I'm not retiring."

The two shared a chuckle.

Then Carlisle ventured a question. "So, any new developments on that disappearance case you were working on?" The disappearance of a seventy year old man, a little over a month ago. A lifelong outdoorsman, Jim Mitchell had last been seen by his truck, on a dirt road not far from the Calawah River. When news of his disappearance had hit the town, many of the locals had volunteered to search for him.

Carlisle, himself, had joined in the search. But heavy winds had destroyed the scent trail. As for the man's footprints, the authorities had tracked them to a rocky riverbank. But after that, nothing. The guy had simply vanished.

Charlie sighed, his weariness showing in his dark brown eyes. "No. Sadly, we're still at it. My hunch is that he fell into the river. Unfortunately, the recovery divers haven't found anything. And as for other leads, nothing else has turned up. It's a shame."

"Indeed." With the butterfly bandage now in place, Carlisle rolled his chair away to survey his work. "There. I believe we're all done here."

"Thanks, doc."

"Don't mention it, Charlie. It was no troub—" A standard ringtone sounded just then, the sound issuing from the chief's coat pocket.

Reaching for his cell phone, Charlie dragged a finger across the screen. When he saw who was calling, a lopsided smile found its way to his mouth. "Hey, Bells," he said as he and Carlisle gained their feet.

"_Hey, Charlie," _a woman said,_ "is this a bad time?_"

"Not at all. Haven't heard from you in a few days. Whatcha been up to?"

Carlisle didn't mean to eavesdrop, but his keen sense of hearing made it impossible not to. As he removed his latex gloves, tossing them in the appropriate disposal bin, he averted his gaze, but overheard their ongoing conversation nonetheless.

"_Ah, nothing much. Same old, same old_._ But Audrey and I went to a museum last night. With all the goings-on at work, it was fun_. _A nice change of pace_." The sound of rustling paper could be heard over the phone. "_You still okay with me driving up this weekend?_"

"Absolutely. You know you're welcome anytime, right? When are you leaving?"

"_I get off work at six on Friday. I was thinking of hitting the road then_."

Charlie's smile faded into a look of worry. Whoever she was, this woman was clearly dear to him. A girlfriend maybe? Or his daughter. She did sound younger than Charlie.

"That highway doesn't have streetlights, and there are a lot of animals in that area. Bears and deer. They're hard to see when it's dark, especially when you're going at sixty miles an hour." He dragged a tired hand over his mustache. "Lord knows I see it often enough. Wouldn't you rather leave in the morning? Less chance of hitting something."

The woman breathed a small laugh—a beautiful laugh. "_You know, you worry too much_."

"Comes with the job I guess." His words were light, but his frown remained.

"_Don't worry, I'll be fine_. _So, I'll see you this weekend?_"

"You betcha. Good night, kid."

Kid. That answered it, then.

"You have a daughter, Charlie?" Carlisle found himself asking once the police chief had ended the call. "Forgive me. I couldn't help but overhear."

But Charlie didn't seem to mind the intrusion. "A daughter, yeah. Her name's Bella. About your age, I'd say. She lives in Seattle. She drives in every now and again to visit."

Family being important to him, Carlisle was happy for the middle-aged man. "Well, I hope you have a good weekend."

"Likewise, Dr. Cullen. Thanks for patching me up." With that, Charlie extended his hand, and Carlisle took it, returning his handshake with the appropriate amount of pressure.

"Anytime, chief."

* * *

Saturday came around. Like the day prior, the clouds were thick this morning, but this time they promised actual rain. What started as a drizzle soon turned into a downpour. As fat rain battered the large windows in the entryway, distorting the view outside, Carlisle reached for, then donned his jacket—a force of habit rather than an actual need.

Having just come off a thirty hour shift, he had traded his slacks and shirt for more casual attire.

As he peered beyond the window, into the surrounding forest, a metal clang drifted in from the attached garage—the sound of a wrench clattering on the concrete floor. Turning in that general direction, Carlisle zipped his jacket. His voice no louder than a murmur, he said, "I'm going for a hunt. Care to join me?"

With vampiric hearing being what it was, there was no need to raise his voice. He could have been whispering and still Rosalie would have heard him.

"I'm good, thanks." Dry words, accompanied by a metal _ping_ as she worked on one of their cars.

Unsurprised by her refusal, Carlisle surveyed the interior of the large empty house, and resigned himself to yet another solitary hunt. Grabbing a scarf, he threw it around his neck before fetching his phone from the bench by the door. "I'll see you later, then." Receiving no reply, he heaved a quiet sigh, pocketed his cell, and was on his way.

Though he would have enjoyed some company, Carlisle took to the woods with growing enthusiasm. Wilderness and open air. Even in the rain, the surroundings were majestic, freeing.

Given the remoteness of his home, there was no need to hide when he was out here. With the flora and fauna as his only witnesses, Carlisle could unleash his true nature, running and moving at full strength and speed between the towering evergreens. His hiking boots scarcely disturbing the ground, he breathed in deep, catching the many scents around him—that of damp earth, fir sap, and pine needles. Even the scent of the many animals that called this forest home. Squirrels, foxes, and birds, just to name a few.

Ceding to his hunting instincts, he allowed his nose and ears to guide his feet. Heading east, he ran.

To human senses, Carlisle's passing form would appear as a mere shadow, a blur followed by a fleeting gust of wind—such was his speed. Presently, there were no humans in the area, a fact for which he was glad.

Being nature's apex predator, a vampire's senses were very different from the average human's. Even at a full run, Carlisle's awareness was unparalleled. His eyes missed little, from the fibers in the lichen to the tiny insects that sheltered in small nooks and crevices in the textured bark of trees.

Time had no meaning when he ran. A second could stretch into infinity, allowing him to absorb everything down to the last detail. To his senses, everything was magnified. The colours were deeper, richer. The details he could discern were so minute, even the falling rain could be admired as individual droplets, round and clear and reflective, until they hit the ground.

Onward he ran, the ferns parting or breaking as he cut a path through them. As the wind brought a distant but mouth-watering scent to his nose, his hunger intensified. With a burning thirst scratching at his throat, Carlisle leapt into the air. His hands sliding around the bole of a tree, he swung his body in a southerly direction, using his momentum to bounce off of another tree.

Going from pine to towering pine, he followed the scent until he caught sight of the herd. The soles of his boots coming to rest on the bark, his left hand clamped on a sturdy branch, Carlisle curled his lip in satisfaction. Deer, four of them, in a large clearing at the bottom of a distant slope. Perched in the upper reaches of the tree, Carlisle observed them for a moment longer, his golden irises darkening in hunger. His mouth watered, his tongue darting over his lower lip. Once again, he breathed in deep, filling his lungs until he could practically taste his prey.

He was moving again, vaulting through the air until his black boots finally met the mossy ground. In silence, he ran, closing the distance in mere seconds.

When he finally fell upon his chosen prey, Carlisle wrapped his arms around the startled animal, scaring the others away. His mouth now fastened to its neck, he drank until the buck was completely drained. The carcass had scarcely touched the ground when he caught up with one of the escapees, sinking his teeth in and draining it in turn.

Sated at last, Carlisle wiped his mouth, dropped the lifeless doe, and allowed the others to get away.

Later, when he was heading home, he became aware of a distinctive scent upon the air. Stopping in his tracks, Carlisle looked in the direction from which it issued.

_Wait… is that?_

He frowned.

Human blood.

In his three hundred and seventy-seven years on this Earth, Carlisle had long grown accustomed to the iron rich liquid that sustained his kind. Unlike other vampires, however, he could easily ignore the lure of human blood. Even when he was at work, surrounded by cuts and scrapes and gaping wounds, injuries he had to mend every day.

But this blood—he sniffed the air again—this blood was different. Potent and distinctive, it floated on the wind and called to him in a manner he had not experienced since the earliest days of his transformation.

Though his stomach was filled to bursting, the burning in his throat returned with a vengeance. Shaking his head in a futile attempt at suppressing the sensation, Carlisle wondered at his reaction before gathering himself enough to shift into doctor mode.

If he smelled human blood, that could only mean one thing: somebody was hurt. And vampire or not, he was a physician first and foremost. He had to do something. Returning to himself, Carlisle set his puzzlement aside and sprang into action, using his vampiric speed to, hopefully, reach the victim in time.

When he finally saw the vehicle, at the bottom of a wooded slope next to the highway, he forced himself to assume a more human pace, lest the victim—or victims—see him.

Surveying the scene, he looked for the driver and spotted her immediately. A woman, hunched over the steering wheel. Her features were hidden by a brown head of hair, shoulder length and wavy. Though she wasn't moving, Carlisle discerned the subtle rise and fall of her shoulders. She was breathing, then. And her heart was beating, too. He could hear it.

Not knowing if this woman had a spinal injury or not, Carlisle took a page from the first responder's handbook and approached the vehicle from the front. That way—should she note his approach—it lessened the likelihood of her turning her neck.

Since the mind of a vampire could focus on multiple things at once, he noted several things about the scene. One of the headlights was busted, the dent in the bumper indicating a collision. Judging by the reddish stain on the gray paint job, and the familiar scent it carried, the vehicle had collided with a bear before careening down here, rolling over at least once before settling on its tires. The dented, uneven roof was clear evidence of that. In addition, the driver's side window was completely shattered.

"Hey," he said as he neared, the scent of her blood intensifying with every step. "Are you okay in there?"

Groaning in answer, the woman slowly lifted her head from the steering wheel. Hands reaching to steady her, Carlisle said, "Try not to move, miss."

At present, her heavy-lidded eyes lacked focus, her pale features streaked with blood. Her hair and face were dampened by rain, her skin alarmingly cool to the touch. How long had she been out here?

Dazed and confused, the woman blinked a few times, revealing chocolate brown eyes.

Though he could hear her pulse, Carlisle concealed the keenness of his senses by using standard medical techniques. His fingers rising to the pulse-point of her neck, he prayed she hadn't been out here too long.

"Cold…" was all she said at first, her voice oddly familiar. The woman took in her surroundings as one who has just awoken from a long and confusing dream. When her gaze landed on his face, her lips fell open, her voice low when she marvelled, weakly, "Whoa… Gabriel…" No sooner had she spoken than her eyelids dropped, obscuring her irises. "Didn't expect to die today." Weak laughter followed her words. "Well, shit…"

"I assure you, you're very much alive. My name's Carlisle. I'm a doctor. I'm here to help you. Try not to move your head."

At first, her mumbles were incoherent, but then he discerned one word. "…okay."

So far, this woman seemed pretty out of it. To further evaluate her level of consciousness, Carlisle asked her what her name was.

For the first time since arriving on the scene, he thought he saw rising clarity in her eyes.

"Bella," she answered tiredly. "Bella Swan." Her lashes lowered once more.

Bella Swan. The chief's daughter. _I knew her voice sounded familiar_. Normally, Carlisle would have made the connection immediately, but her blood—the alluring and mouth-watering aroma—proved quite the distraction. _Get a grip! Focus!_

"Well Bella, can you tell me the date?"

"The date?" Her eyes opened again, only to narrow in drowsy concentration. "Friday? No wait. It's light out… Saturday." She was correct. _At least one good sign_.

"September…" She searched her mind. "September... I don't know."

"That's alright, Bella. Do you know where you are?" As he spoke, Carlisle scanned her body for injuries. Except for a minor laceration on her brow and a contusion on her temple, she appeared relatively well on the surface—though appearances could be deceiving. Head trauma was a distinct possibility, as was internal bleeding.

"Um… I'm by the highway?" she answered.

"That's right."

"Forks. That's where I was headed… I think."

Heartened by her answer, Carlisle reached for his phone and made the call.

Although Bella appeared to be the sole occupant of the vehicle, he checked the interior of the car anyway. Seeing no one, he was scanning the immediate area to check for possible ejected passengers when the dispatcher answered, "_911, what's your emergency?_"

"I'm calling to report an accident just off the 101." Glancing up the wooded slope, he saw part of a highway sign. The one that indicated that Forks was only ten miles away. Relaying their exact location, he went on, "Single vehicle accident. One victim, conscious and semi-coherent, hypothermic with possible injuries."

"Cold," Bella said again, her teeth chattering behind plump lips. At present, they were a disquieting shade of purplish blue, lending credence to his belief that she had been out here for a while.

Setting the phone to speaker mode, Carlisle removed his jacket and draped it over her.

"_Help is on its way, sir_." As the dispatcher asked him the first of a standard set of questions, Carlisle explained the nature of her suspected injuries, adding that he was a doctor at Forks General.

The victim was stirring again.

To Bella, he said, "Try not to move. Stay absolutely still." Climbing in the back seat, he sat forward and stabilized her spine by holding her head and neck on either side.

Watching her face via the rear-view mirror, he saw that her eyelids were drooping again. Suspecting a concussion, Carlisle told her to stay awake. "Talk to me, Bella. Can you tell me where it hurts?"

The enticing scent of her blood permeated the cramped interior of the vehicle, making it hard to concentrate. _Why now? What is wrong with me? _To ease the incessant burning in his throat, Carlisle stopped breathing altogether. An endless second passed, then two.

Better. Until he'd have to speak again.

"Um… head mostly," Bella mumbled at last, her voice barely carrying over the pounding rain. "My neck, too. Everywhere actually."

As he kept a watch on her through the mirror, Carlisle was startled by his own reflection, by the utter blackness of his eyes.

Though he had never consumed human blood, and never would, to say that he was unaffected would have been a lie. Bloodlust, the likes of which he had not felt in three hundred and fifty years, had taken a hold of him, making him ever thankful for the deer blood in his stomach.

On the heels of this thought came an unsettling question; if he had come upon the scene prior to hunting, how hard would it have been to rein himself in?

For a split second, his mind supplied a vision of himself, nostrils flaring as his parted lips ghosted over her jugular, teeth grazing, not biting, but definitely yearning to. Carlisle brought the vision to a screeching halt. He wouldn't have crossed that line. Ever. His self-control—that he had mastered centuries ago—would not allow it. The pull, however, would have been there. Even now, it bothered him. She smelled so incredibly _good_!

_Concentrate_, he chastised himself. _This woman needs your help._

Then it occurred to him. The reason why her blood might be affecting him in the manner that it was. He had first heard of the phenomenon centuries ago, during his time with the Volturi, a powerful vampire coven in Volterra, Italy.

La tua cantante.

This woman—Bella—was his singer. She had to be.

According to what he had been told, a singer was a human whose blood called to a specific vampire. To encounter one's singer usually meant one thing: a frenzied feast for the vampire, and death to the human.

For most of his kind, stumbling upon such irresistible prey would be considered a great find, an experience to be remembered. But for a "vegetarian" such as Carlisle, it was problematic.

_Out of all the people in the world, why her? Why here? Why now? Come on, Cullen! Her life is in your hands. Get your head back in the game._

"How are you doing, Bella? Still with me?"

"…tired… wanna sleep."

"I'm sorry, you have to stay awake."

By the distant sirens, the ambulance wouldn't be here for at least six minutes or so. Seconds later, another siren joined in, then another, telling him that the cops and firefighters were also on their way.

"You said your name is Bella Swan. Are you Charlie's daughter?" By her voice, he already knew that she was. But talking would help keep her awake.

"You know my dad?"

"I know him, yes."

Bella smiled tiredly at that, but then she groaned in pain, her next words so low, human ears would have strained to hear them. "Stomach hurts."

This newest revelation, combined with the shortness of her breathing, troubled him greatly. Listening carefully, he thought he heard her blood, leaking and pooling somewhere in her abdomen. Internal bleeding. _Damn it._

"Hang in there. The ambulance is almost here. Can you tell me how long you've been out here?"

"I don't… I don't know… was dark." Another heavy blink.

_Stay with me._

"How old are you, Bella?"

"Th… thirty."

"_Paramedics are almost at the scene_," the dispatcher assured them over the phone. "_Estimated time of arrival, five minutes_."

"See? You'll be out of here in no time."

For the next five and a half minutes, Carlisle kept her awake and talking. Finally, the paramedics arrived, with the fire truck following on their heels. Vehicle doors opened then slammed shut, then the police cruiser pulled up. As the firefighters took to the slope, carrying ropes, a spine board, and a rescue basket, Carlisle overheard one of the cops. "Two-forty-nine to dispatch. Ten-twenty-three on scene."

When the cruiser first arrived, Carlisle had thought it might be Charlie Swan. It wasn't, though—and maybe that was a good thing. After all, arriving on scene unprepared would be a horrible way to learn of his daughter's accident.

The firefighters were nearly at the vehicle. As they approached, Carlisle relayed the appropriate information, and only released Bella's neck once a brace had been put in place.

"Christ, that's Charlie's daughter," one of them whispered to another.

When the cop arrived to survey the scene, the same recognition dawned in his eyes.

Leaving the actual extrication to the firefighters, Carlisle kept a careful watch over Bella. Her blood still bothered him but by sheer strength of will, his focus held. As the rain fell in sheets around them, the team worked in concert to haul her up the steep slope, where the paramedics were waiting to take over.

"Dr. Cullen," one of them said, with clear surprise on his features. Realising how odd it looked—him being way out here without his car—Carlisle gave a brisk nod, and repeated what he knew of Bella's condition.

Climbing in the back of the ambulance, he monitored her vitals, keeping her awake as the emergency vehicle headed for the hospital with sirens blaring.

"You're doing great, Bella."

"Were you in the accident with her?" the paramedic—a guy named Trevor—asked at length, his narrowed gaze lingering on his eyes, doubtless noting the blackness in them.

"No," Carlisle answered, and busied himself by checking Bella's blood pressure. "I was hiking in the area when I stumbled on the scene." His explanation, though partly true, would sound strange, he knew.

For here he was, dressed in jeans and a light jacket, with no rain gear, no backpack, nothing. As if that wasn't odd enough, the accident scene was far from the more scenic hiking trails in the area. _Who hikes by the highway anyway? In the middle of a rain storm no less. _

Whether Trevor bought the explanation, Carlisle hadn't the faintest, and couldn't bring himself to care—at least not as much as he should. This woman needed immediate medical attention: X-rays, a full body scan, definitely surgery.

Sealed in the confines of the ambulance, her scent continued to affect him. _Like a damned siren's call_. Dragging a hand through the wet mop that was his hair, Carlisle glanced out the back window, and could have sighed in relief. They were nearly there.

As soon as they wheeled Bella out of the ambulance, Carlisle issued instructions to the awaiting staff. The on-duty doctor was none other than Luke Coleman, one of the senior doctors at the hospital. Once he had been brought up to speed, the middle-aged man leaned over the gurney to flash a light into Bella's eyes, one at a time. "So, you think she's bleeding internally."

"Seems like it." Though it was more than a suspicion, he _knew_ she was bleeding.

"Prep OR two!" Dr. Coleman called at once. "I want x-rays and a full body scan STAT!"

The emergency room was now thrumming with activity—nurses running around, doing as ordered with practiced speed and efficiency.

As Carlisle started toward the room where clean scrubs were kept, a hand landed heavily on his shoulder.

"I've got this, Carlisle." It was Dr. Coleman.

"Sir, if I may, I—"

"Look, I know you're great at what you do, but you just came off a thirty-hour shift, and you assisted in two back-to-back surgeries. I'm sorry but you're sitting this one out."

Carlisle opened his mouth to protest but shut it just as soon. Though he never got tired and hadn't slept since he'd been twenty-seven, his co-workers didn't know that. And though he was more experienced—by far—than anyone here, Carlisle could not betray his cover story. To the people who worked here, he was fairly young, fresh out of residency. Definitely not the highest on the totem pole.

Though it was against his liking, Carlisle yielded with a nod. He would sit this one out. _But I'm not leaving this hospital. _

Why he felt compelled to stay instead of waiting at home then calling for news, Carlisle couldn't really say, except it felt like the right thing to do.

With nothing left to do but wait, he exited the treatment area and made for the ER's general waiting room.

Ignoring some of the curious stares that were thrown his way, Carlisle had just sat down when the screech of tires reached him from the outside. Moments later, the automatic doors opened to reveal a very worried, very pale-looking, Chief of Police.

"I'm here for Bella Swan," he said as his hands found purchase on the edge of the medical secretary's desk. "I'm her father. She was in an accident today." No sooner had he spoken, than his partner, Officer Reed, hurried through the doors.

As the woman informed him that Dr. Coleman would be with him shortly, Carlisle gained his feet. "Charlie." Approaching the officers, he saw the puzzlement on Charlie's features. No doubt the man was wondering what he was doing in the waiting room, looking like a wet dog.

"Dr. Cullen."

"I was the one who found your daughter. From what I could tell, she hit an animal sometime last night and lost control of her car."

"Was she okay? Was she…" A tremor went through him. He couldn't even finish his sentence.

"She was alive and conscious when we brought her in."

Charlie loosed a long, tremulous breath, his hand rising to rub the back of his neck.

"Dr. Coleman will be able to tell you more." Carlisle motioned to a heavy door. "Come. There's a private waiting room just through here."


	2. Chapter 2 - Waiting

**To those who left reviews on chapter 1 (chellekathrynnn, Tyricle, Ruiniel, leelee202, Guest, and Guest), thank you! And thanks to all who took the time to read the first chapter of my story. I really appreciate it.**

* * *

**CHAPTER 2**

**WAITING**

With a flick of the switch, light flooded the bathroom, the halogens leeching much of the gold from his pale hair. Shutting the door that separated the tiny room from his office, Carlisle set his duffle bag aside, and gripped the edge of the sink.

_What a morning._

Alone with his tumultuous thoughts, he hung his head, and was about to heave a sigh when he thought better of it. Given how Bella's scent still clung to his hands and clothing, it was best not to breathe just yet.

_Out of all the people in all the world… Here of all places._ This tiny blip of a town in the Pacific Northwest. As far as coincidences went, it was astronomical. With a staggered shake of his head, Carlisle sent his thoughts to the woman who was currently undergoing life-saving surgery, less than three corridors away.

_My singer._

God sure had a strange sense of humor.

Considering how these types of encounters usually played out, Carlisle had managed rather well. But though he had maintained a firm hold over his bloodlust, his inner struggle was very real, the memory of her scent making his head swim even now.

Though fainter than at the accident scene, the mouth-watering smell permeated the small hospital, bothering him wherever he went. It was the reason he had stopped breathing fifteen minutes ago, the reason he had cloistered himself in his private bathroom.

Knowing he was awfully close to crushing the sink, Carlisle released the porcelain edges, and contemplated his reflection. The image staring back at him was a far cry from his usual polished exterior. His wavy hair was damp and dishevelled, his eyes at least three shades darker than their usual honey-gold. Alright so golden brown was better than coal black, but the hue was still dark enough for the change to be noticeable. And for a vampire living amongst humans, noticeable was never a good thing. Especially when it was in a weird and seemingly unexplainable way.

Indeed, the eyes of a vampire were unique in the sense that the irises changed color depending on one's state of being. For "vegetarians" such as Carlisle, the normal color was gold, whereas those who drank human blood possessed dark red irises. Regardless of one's eating habits, however, one thing was constant: if a vampire was thirsty or in a state of arousal, their eyes turned dark, like his were now.

Hoping to lessen the effect, Carlisle set himself to purpose by removing his damp jacket and scarf, hanging them on the hook on the door. Then, shifting his focus to the blood that had transferred onto his skin, he proceeded to wash his hands and forearms, lathering and scrubbing as hard as he could.

The tap was running at full strength, spouting hot water over his marble-like skin. As the last of the suds fell and disappeared in the drain, his gaze returned to his reflection. His mind, however, had vaulted him back to the 1600s, to that potato cellar in the heart of London, where he had first experienced the bloodlust he had felt today.

The change had been long and excruciating, the burning so horrendous, he would never forget it—not that vampiric memory would allow such a thing. While his life as a human was somewhat faded now, his existence as a vampire was chiseled with perfect clarity in his mind, each and every minute of it, down to the last detail, from the moment he had been bitten, all the way to now.

For three hundred and fifty years he had "lived" as a vampire, much of it spent in relative solitude. In fact, immediately after the change, he had found himself completely and utterly alone.

Unlike the majority of newborn vampires, Carlisle had been abandoned by his sire. To this very day, he did not know if it had been a man or a woman. In all likelihood, his change had been accidental. A single bite, delivered in those chaotic moments when Carlisle and select members of his father's congregation had descended into the sewers of London, in search of a suspected coven of vampires.

_Such ignorant fools we were. _

While he had been clever enough to discover the vampires' whereabouts, Carlisle had not fully realised what they'd been up against. _If I had_… In truth, they'd never stood a chance. Armed with torches and pitchforks and other such things, they had descended into the damp tunnels thinking they would help rid the world of evil.

In the end, all they had achieved was their own slaughter, for none of them had walked out afterwards. All except Carlisle that is, and the word "crawled" was a much better description.

How he had managed to keep from screaming was still beyond him. His entire body burning and seizing, Carlisle had dragged himself onto the cobble stone street, his fingers clawing at the rain-soaked ground as one who searches for divine intervention or a helping hand.

Finding neither of those things—not that anyone could have helped him at that point—Carlisle had spotted an open cellar nearby. Slowly, and with much effort, he had crawled through the opening, somehow shutting the heavy door behind him before his strength had given out and he had tumbled down the wooden stairs.

For two days and nights he had burned, writhing in quiet agony while the venom took over, altering his cells and irrevocably changing him into what he was now.

When his heart had finally stopped beating, the unbearable pain lifting at nearly the same time, Carlisle had stared at the dirty ceiling for a good long while, and would have cried if he had been able to. But vampires could not weep, and venom tears did not fall. Truth be told, aside from the gift of sleep, it was one of the things he missed most—to be able to weep in joy or sadness. Oh, he still felt those emotions, keenly at that. But the human ability to cry was now lost to him, and forever would be.

Without a sire to guide him, Carlisle had left the cellar in the dead of night, only to be met by the overwhelming scent of humans. So many of them. As if that wasn't bad enough, his keen sense of hearing had picked up a most alarming sound. A beating chorus of varying strength and speed. _Lub-dub, lub-dub, lub-dub_. All those hearts pumping iron-rich blood into soft veins.

With a fierce burning in his throat, Carlisle had looked about him with abject horror. So many houses, with so many innocent people tucked away inside. And all he had wanted to do was drink them dry.

Horrified by what he had become, he had fled the city that night, and stayed away from humans for a long time afterward.

Returning to the present, he shut the water off. Steam now coated the mirror. A crystalline drop fell from the faucet, the tiny _plop_ almost deafening to his ears.

_Bella_.

A lovely name, he thought. Short for Isabella perhaps—and he liked that name, too.

Shoving the errant thought away, Carlisle angled his ear toward the surgical suite.

"There it is. There's the bleed." he heard Dr. Coleman say, the steady beep of the monitors telling him that Bella was stable. "It's a small tear," the middle-aged man said. Carlisle was heartened to hear it. "I gotta say, this lady was lucky in her bad luck."

He had to agree with that. If her injuries had been more severe, she could have bled out sometime during the night. And if Carlisle hadn't gone hunting this morning, odds are she would still be out there, dead or very close to dying.

Though reassured by what he had just heard, Carlisle wished he could be in there with her, working to mend her injuries with his own hands. For bloodlust or no, his desire to practice medicine was undiminished. Honestly, it bothered him that he couldn't partake in Bella's surgery.

It wasn't that Dr. Coleman wasn't a good doctor. He was. But his human senses had limitations his did not.

With the patient's life at stake, Carlisle would have set his personal discomfort aside, and done everything in his power to repair her injuries. As it was, he could only hang back and wait, just like Charlie was doing now.

Knowing he should get back out there, Carlisle dried himself with three squares of paper towel. Once these were in the trash can, he pulled his t-shirt up and over his head, swapping it for the clean dress shirt he kept in his duffel bag.

As he fastened the buttons, his gaze went to the crescent shaped scar on the slope where his neck met his shoulder. This being the only mark on his flawless skin, he would bear it for the rest of his immortal life. Foregoing a tie, he donned a blue cardigan over his white shirt, and fastened the three lowermost buttons. Alright, so it wasn't the edgiest of styles. But he liked wearing cardigans. And scarves. And sweater-vests, too. To him, these were timeless pieces, comfortable and appropriate for a man in his profession.

His focus shifting to the lower half of his body, Carlisle traded his jeans for a pair of slacks. Because he hadn't thought to keep an extra pair of shoes in his office, he would have to wear his hiking boots for the time being. Adjusting the hem of his slacks so they covered most of the laces, Carlisle smoothed the front of his pant legs, and straightened.

Reaching for his duffel bag, he opened a side pocket and produced a comb. With a series of fluid movements, he ran the plastic teeth through his hair, combing the strands back into a wavy yet professional style. _The Ken doll look_, he mused with a small smile, remembering a little girl he had treated in the mid 1980s.

"_Mister, is your name Ken, too?_" the young cancer patient had asked him then.

"_No, my name is Carlisle_," had been his answer, delivered as he had checked her IV line.

The girl, whose name was Maddison, had narrowed her bright blue eyes at him. "_Are you sure? Because you sure look like him_," she had said, and held up a doll—a surfer with yellow plastic hair.

Seeing a slight resemblance, Carlisle had found himself laughing, shaking his head as he'd checked the IV bag. It was a heartwarming memory, made even more special by the fact that the girl had later gone into remission. Stories like hers were among the many reasons he loved being a doctor. Helping people, making a difference. Those were the things that made him happy.

Presentable at last, Carlisle exited the bathroom, dropped his duffle bag by his desk, and made for the door. Moments later, he was striding down a window-lined corridor, toward the waiting room outside the surgical department, where Charlie and a few other officers were now waiting for news.

As he walked, he thought he might chance a breath, just to see. So he did.

Bella's scent still reached him from afar, but now that he had washed his hands and left his damp clothing in his office, it wasn't so potent or distracting anymore.

Glad for the relief, Carlisle stopped by the break room, where he proceeded to brew a fresh pot of coffee—not for himself, but for Charlie. As the coffee maker sputtered to life, he couldn't help but overhear the police chief.

"She's still in surgery," he was saying to someone over the phone. "Might be a while."

"_I'm sorry I missed your call, Charlie, but I'm driving up now_," a man replied. "_I should be there in a few hours_. _God, if only I'd been there. But I had to work and_…" He gave a shaky breath. "_Anyway, if I'm not there by the time you hear anything, please keep me posted_."

There was a pause and then, "Sure thing." Despite how worried and tired he was, there was a slight edge to Charlie's voice. Annoyance perhaps. Or blame.

"_Do you need me to call Audrey?_"

"Would you? My buddies looked for Bella's phone, but they couldn't find it,"—Charlie sounded like a man who hadn't slept in ages—"Either she left it at home, or else it was ejected from the car. I would have called Audrey myself, but I don't have her number."

"_Don't worry about it, Charlie. I'll call her_."

"Oh, hi." Carlisle glanced up at the words, spoken by a nurse who had just entered the break room. Fresh out of university, Leanne was a recent hire here at the hospital. "Aren't you supposed to be off today?" she asked with a smitten expression Carlisle had come to know well.

In fact, no matter which hospital he worked at, it was always the same thing, nurses making pretty eyes at him, competing to see who would net his attention. Whenever schedules were posted, he would often hear the women gloat or grumble amongst themselves. It seemed they all wanted to work with him—though all he seemed to do was distract them.

Some males might see it as a blessing, but for Carlisle, the unwanted attention was nothing short of a curse. As a vampire, his voice, his scent, his very appearance, was made to draw people in. For the nomadic vampires who preyed on humans, vampiric allure was a most useful tool to have. But Carlisle was not a typical vampire. He preyed only on animals: deer, mountain lions, moose, and bears for example.

As it was, the attention annoyed him more than anything. But since the women could not be blamed for their instinctual reactions, he was always careful in how he responded to them. Patience and courtesy went a long way in such situations, and having gone through this many times over, he knew that his coworkers' fixations would dissipate over time. Then all would run smoothly—or should—until his lack of aging forced him to relocate once again, starting a new life in a new town where he would have to repeat the process all over again.

Ten years per town or city, that was the average. Any longer than that, and the people would know there was something wrong with him. Rosalie as well.

Him being fairly new to Forks—or newly returned rather—Carlisle knew that it'd be another year or two before the nurses got over their infatuation. From that point on, he should have seven or eight years of professional peace. In the meantime, all he could do was wait, smile, and ride it out.

The coffee-pot being nearly full, Carlisle turned away from the doe-eyed woman, and reached for a disposable cup and lid. While coffee was considered a necessity by most of the staff here at the hospital, especially during night shifts, Carlisle disliked the smell himself. The taste was even worse.

By the time he started for the door, nodding his goodbye as he went, the nurse was still staring at him, her teeth clamped over her bottom lip.

"See you around!" she called as he stepped out into the corridor.

As he walked toward the waiting room, coffee cup in hand, Carlisle smiled at those who crossed his path. Some were patients, like Gladis Clark, a jovial, bingo-loving woman with curly silver hair and the most endearing smile. At seventy-six, she was fiercely independent, with a zest for life one had to admire. Having seen her just last week, Carlisle knew she was here for routine blood tests.

"Hello, Mrs. Clark. How are you today?"

Her smile broadened when she saw him, her eyes crinkling at the corners. "Well, I'm not worm food, and I drove my own car. I couldn't be better. Besides…" Waving so he'd come closer, she giggled and lowered her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. "I have a hot date tonight. Mr. Foster who lives by the post office. Do you know him?"

Carlisle joined in her laugher. "I do know him, yes." He was a patient as well, widowed for the past three years. "A good man, and a lucky one at that."

Her answering laugh was delightfully cheerful.

After wishing her well, Carlisle continued on his way, his smile fading to a look of compassion when he crossed paths with a frail-looking man who was being wheeled on a gurney. His face being unfamiliar, the patient was either new to Forks, or else he had been passing through when he had been brought here. From the sound of his heart and that of his lungs, Carlisle could tell that he was in congestive heart failure.

The male nurse who was pushing the gurney nodded to him as he passed by. "Dr. Cullen."

Carlisle nodded in turn. "Hi, Steve." And on he went.

Hospitals. There was life here. But there was also death. And sadly, a whole lot of suffering in between. Here, he saw the very best and the very worst in humanity. Every day, he saw people who were worried, people who were frightened, people in pain, both physical and emotional. He saw kind people. Smart people. People who lacked judgment. People who lashed out in grief or rage. People who were in so much pain, they hated and wanted out of this life.

He saw tears of sorrow, tears of joy. He saw the fear and hope in the eyes of new mothers and fathers. He saw the innocent wonder in children's gazes. In short, he saw it all. And he treated everyone the same, regardless of who they were and how they acted. In his eyes, every life was worth saving.

"Hey, Charlie," Carlisle said quietly and held out the coffee cup. "I thought you might need this."

The man looked up, his fretful expression morphing into a dim smile. "Thanks, Dr. Cullen."

"I'm not working today," he said and sat next to the police chief. "Please call me Carlisle."

Charlie nodded at that. Then he sat forward, his elbows coming to rest above his knees. His partner, Sean Reed, was presently on his cell phone, giving an update to someone. "She's still in surgery," he was saying. "We're not sure how long it's gonna be."

Two other officers were seated in the neighboring chairs, both of them in uniform. Gladdened by the fact that Charlie's coworkers were there to support him, Carlisle wondered why there weren't more people here—friends and family, and Bella's mother for that matter. Charlie was a bachelor; that much he knew. Maybe the woman now lived in another state or town. Maybe they were all estranged, or maybe she had passed away. Or then maybe he was wrong, and she was going to walk through the hospital doors any minute now.

"I wonder what's taking so long. Waiting around like this… not knowing what's going on in there…" Charlie heaved a heavy breath, and dragged a hand through his salt and pepper hair. "It's enough to drive a man crazy."

Carlisle wished he could share what he knew—that Bella was stable; that Dr. Coleman had found the bleed and was repairing it now—but he couldn't. "She's in good hands, Charlie." _Good hands, not the best_, he mused and glanced toward the double doors at the far end of the corridor. Honestly, it still irked him that he couldn't be in there.

Seconds turned to a minute. One minute turned into five.

Charlie spoke. "Bella was supposed to get in around ten last night. When she didn't show, I waited and tried not to worry. I must have called her cell a dozen times. By midnight, I knew. I called her apartment, various hospitals…" Though his words were for Carlisle, he threw a brief glance at his partner, who was texting someone on his phone. "Sean and I drove up and down that highway for half the night. We'd just pulled in to the station when I finally got the call. No matter what happens..." A pause ensued. Charlie sought his eyes. "I owe you my thanks."

Before Carlisle could summon a reply, the chief cleared his throat, emotions hindering his voice when he looked to his feet and said, "If you hadn't found her when you did, my baby girl would still be out there. She'd…" He shuddered and said no more. There was no need to.

"_Dispatch to Forks police_."

As the dispatcher spoke over the police radios, saying they had received a call about a drag race over by the Thriftway, Charlie sat up, while two of the other officers gained their feet.

"We've got this, chief," one of them said, a woman with short reddish hair. She and her partner were gone just as soon.

Minutes later, when the dispatcher spoke through the radio once more, stating the need for additional backup, Officer Reed stood up. "I'll go," he told Charlie. "I'll be back as soon as I can. Hang in there, buddy." Sean hurried out of the waiting room.

And now they were two.

"Are you hungry?" Carlisle inquired after a while. "I can get something from the cafeteria if you like."

"Thanks, but no. I can't eat right now."

It was just past two in the afternoon. The other officers had been gone for nearly half an hour.

"Is there anybody you want me to call?" Carlisle asked after another fifteen minutes had passed. No one else had shown up. "Friends or family perhaps."

Charlie shook his head, an air of regret upon his face. "There's no family to speak of. Bella's mother, she…" His brows furrowed into an expression of pain or grief. "She died several years back. She and her husband were living in Jacksonville at the time. There was a fire at their house one night and… yeah…"

As a blanket of silence descended upon the waiting room, Carlisle regarded the police chief. Quietly, he said, "I'm sorry to hear that."

At first, he expected that Charlie would lapse into silence once more, but the man surprised him by opening up and saying, "I have a few buddies up in La Push. One of them called earlier to ask how Bella was doing, but they won't come here." Charlie frowned again, harshly this time. For the next few seconds, he stared hard at the opposing wall. Clearly, his friends' absence was a sore spot, and rightly so.

Given where his buddies lived, however, Carlisle had a fairly good idea why they stayed away. For La Push was a Native American reservation just outside of Forks. The Quileute tribe called it home, and unlike other humans, the tribe knew about vampires. In fact, some of the tribe's members had a supernatural side themselves. Shape-shifters they were, who could phase into wolf form whenever vampires, their traditional enemies, were near.

In the fall of 1939, Carlisle and his small coven had been hunting on Quileute land when they had been discovered by Ephraim Black and two others. Chief of his tribe, Ephraim had been the Alpha of his pack.

Because Carlisle and his coven hadn't harmed anyone, and were different from other vampires, they had been able to negotiate a treaty. If they promised not to bite humans, and to stay off Quileute lands, the tribe would not attack or expose them for what they truly were.

But nowadays, a treaty did not mean friendship—at least not for the Quileutes. When Carlisle and Rosalie had returned to Forks, eleven months ago, a few members of the tribe had begun to phase, the phenomenon alerting them that vampires had returned to the area.

One rainy night, upon leaving the hospital after a sixteen hour shift, Carlisle had spotted the welcoming committee, waiting under a tree by his car. Three men: Sam Uley, Embry Call, and Jacob Black.

The coldness of their features had rivalled that of Carlisle's skin. The moment he had laid eyes on them, he had known they were shape-shifters. Their smell betrayed them.

All told, their exchange had been rather brief. After Carlisle had promised not to violate the peace treaty, the three men had left. The warning in their eyes, however, had been clear: _break one rule and there will be hell to pay._

From that moment on, the members of the tribe had boycotted the hospital, hence the reason Charlie's buddies had failed to show today.

His dead heart going out to the police chief, Carlisle found it most unfortunate. If only things weren't so tense with the Quileutes. But such was the nature of things. The wolves hated vampires, even "vegetarians". The fact that he and Rosalie could live here at all was a miracle onto itself.

With his attention fixed onto the goings-on in the operating room, Carlisle knew the moment the procedure was over. Relieved that the chief's daughter was going to be okay, he waited in silence until Dr. Coleman stepped through the double doors, his surgical cap still on his head, his mask hanging around his neck.

"Mr. Swan?" he announced and Carlisle excused himself, leaving so the surgeon could speak to Charlie in private.

"How is she?" the chief asked at once.

"Your daughter was very lucky. There was a tear in her liver, but we managed to repair the damage."

Charlie's relief was palpable, even from afar.

"She's going to need a lot of rest," Dr. Coleman went on to say, "but I expect she will make a full recovery."

Later that day, when Charlie was finally allowed to see her, Carlisle found himself hovering just outside the doorway. Having swung by the cafeteria, he had brought a sandwich for the police chief.

"Hey, Bells," Charlie said as he grasped her limp hand. "It's your dad. You gave me quite a fright, do you know that?"

But Bella was asleep, lost in a haze of pain meds and exhaustion. As he watched her from the corridor—mindful not to breathe her mouth-watering scent—Carlisle was struck by the sight she presented. Now that the crisis was over, and her face was no longer streaked with blood, it was as if he was truly seeing her for the first time.

Even with a cannula delivering extra oxygen to her nose, the loveliness of her features could not be missed.

Ivory-skinned, she had a light, almost imperceptible smattering of freckles across her nose and cheekbones. Her chocolate brown eyes were hidden by long, sweeping lashes. And her lips, though still somewhat pale, looked soft and full. As she slept, Carlisle couldn't help but wonder what her smile looked like. A true smile, the kind that reaches the eyes.

Suddenly conscious of the fact that he was openly staring, he glanced at the time. It was just after four. Because he was expected to "rest" before his next shift, he would have to get going soon.

With a gentle knock on the doorframe, Carlisle entered the room, and spoke in a quiet murmur. "It's not much, but I brought you a sandwich. I hope turkey's okay." Now that he had taken a breath to speak, his thirst returned with a vengeance. Hand rising to loosen his collar, Carlisle swallowed against the sensation.

"Turkey's fine, yeah," Charlie replied with a genuine, albeit tired, smile. "Thanks."

Reaching over the bed, Carlisle extended the sandwich. "Don't mention it."

Making easy work of the plastic packaging, it wasn't long before Charlie had wolfed down a bite.

"If you're alright, I think I'm going to head home."

"Of course." Before Carlisle could make his exit, the police chief straightened and called after him.

"Thank you. For everything you did today."

"No need to thank me. I'm just glad she's okay." With a small smile and a nod, Carlisle tucked his hands into his pockets, and started to leave. He had barely taken two steps when a man barreled into the room.

"Sorry I took so long," he said, breathing hard.

Around Bella's age, he had light brown hair. Five ten at the most, he wore a nice leather jacket over a shirt and tie, his slacks and leather shoes hinting at a white-collar job.

Ignoring Carlisle altogether, the man crossed the room and spoke to Charlie. "There was an accident just outside of Seattle. Traffic was backed up for miles. How is she?"

"Pretty banged up," was Charlie's dry response. Whoever this guy was—whether he was a relative, or Bella's husband or boyfriend—the Chief of Police seemed to have little love for him. Seemingly mindful of where he was, Charlie drew a breath, his voice and features softening somewhat when he said, "They want to keep her here for a few days. She needs to heal and rest, but she should be okay."

The guy hung his head. "Thank god," he breathed, and reached for Bella's hand, raising it to his lips. "Hey, sweetie. It's me, Evan. I'm here."

The affectionate display narrowed the choices down to two: boyfriend or husband.

Knowing it was time to make a discreet exit, Carlisle ignored the sudden and irrational pang in his chest. With hunting on his mind, he threw one last look at Bella, passed through the doorframe, and finally stepped out.

* * *

**So here was chapter 2. I realise there wasn't much going on in this part, but I felt it was important that I set the scene. In the next part, I will shed more light on Carlisle's home life and the current state of his coven. Oh and we'll finally get a scene with him and Bella. **

**To all who took the time to read this, thank you. I wish you all a very good week. **

**CygnusRift**


	3. Chapter 3 - The Cullens

**Standard disclaimer: I am not Stephenie Meyer. If I was, Twilight would have centered around the angelic gorgeousness that is Carlisle Cullen. This is just for fun, folks. I make no money off of this. **

**As a fanfic author who likes to dabble in alternate scenarios, I feel I should remind you that some details will differ from the books or movies. Among other things, I toyed with dates again, making Rosalie and another character slightly older. There are no teenagers in this fic. As for the coven's history, you'll learn more about it here. But like I usually do when I tell a story, I reveal things a little at a time. **

**For those who are new to my work, I often associate a specific song to some of my chapters. Sometimes, it's because the lyrics fit. Other times, it's because the feel of the song inspired or carried me during the writing process. So with that out of the way, the song for this chapter would be **** "Going Home" by Ásgeir.**

**As always, thanks go out to my readers and reviewers: chellekathrynnn, CowgirlKelly, Goldielover, Ruiniel, Guest, leelee202, Guest, Guest, and leward1992, your comments and continued interest has meant the world to me.**

* * *

**CHAPTER 3**

**THE CULLENS**

The hunt had been invigorating, his latest prey more challenging than the deer he had hunted yesterday. Indeed, the mountain lion had put up a bit of a fight. Same for the bear he had taken down shortly thereafter.

Sated and ready to head home, Carlisle ran through the night-clad woods, slowing to a sudden walk when his house finally came into view. At present, light filtered through its many windows and doors, and the outdoor lighting was on, too.

A study of modern architecture, the multi-level home had a gray and redwood exterior. Built in the same location as their former home—the one his small coven had occupied from January 1939 to March 1941—the house boasted more space than they needed. In fact, it was large enough to accommodate eight or ten vampires.

"_Why such a big house?_" Rosalie had asked when he had first showed her the floor plans, on a wintry afternoon, five years ago, when the two of them had lived in northern British Columbia.

"_I don't know_," Carlisle had answered on a shrug, unsure of why he had asked the architect to design such a large home. "_Maybe we'll have guests someday_."

"_Guests?_" Rosalie had snorted at that; he couldn't blame her for laughing. It didn't matter where they lived, they never had company. One because their lifestyle made them an oddity in the vampire world. And two, they couldn't risk forming close human friendships.

Leaning over his shoulder to stare at the plans, Rosalie had fallen silent for a moment. "_It's a lovely house," _she had decided at length, with a rare but genuine smile on her angelic face._ "I like it_."

Her approval had prompted a smile of his own. With a satisfied nod, Carlisle had rolled up the plans and risen from his chair. "_That settles it, then_."

And now here they were, living a quiet, if somewhat lonely life on the periphery of things, in Forks Washington.

As Carlisle made for the house at a human pace, he glanced at his watch. _Three-thirty_.

The air was still this night, and the stars were hidden by a thick blanket of clouds. Unlike most other backyards in and around Forks, there was no lawn to speak of. Except for one beaten path, the ground was an untamed carpet of ferns and moss and pine needles. Wild but beautiful to look upon, the terrain rose and fell beneath the lofty evergreens that wreathed his flat-roofed home.

The back of the house now loomed in front of him. With the sound of the Calawah River caressing his eardrums, Carlisle unzipped his jacket and, seeing no sign of Rosalie through the windows or on the balconies, wondered if she was even home.

With quick but silent footfalls, he scaled the steps to the veranda. Directly in front of him were two glass doors, beyond which was one of their many sitting rooms. Dominated by a large bookshelf, of the same redwood as the exterior of the house, the room was bathed in the soft glow of recessed lighting and reading lamps.

"Rose?" Carlisle said upon entering.

Met by silence, he shut the doors, and guessed she was still hunting. Though they sometimes hunted together, Rosalie often went out on her own. Assuming she would return soon, Carlisle hung his jacket on a coat rack, and proceeded further into the house.

Climbing the first of two different sets of stairs, he walked by the kitchen they never used. Then, after rounding a corner, he went up, toward the upper level of the house, where his room and private bathroom were located.

Wont to shower after a hunt, Carlisle soon found himself beneath steaming hot water. His face angled toward the spray, he swept his hair back. Hair that would never turn gray, never fall out. Hair that couldn't grow. Unchanging, that's what he was, a supernatural being frozen in time.

As clouds of steam rose around him, coating the chrome fixtures and gray tiled walls, Carlisle grabbed the shampoo and started lathering. While his body produced neither sweat nor oils, his skin could carry dirt and germs just like any other surface. And seeing as he had just wrestled a mountain lion and a bear, Carlisle would rather scrub himself clean before heading for the hospital.

Hunting twice in the span of two days…

Normally, Carlisle would feed once, maybe twice a week. But given that his singer was recuperating in his place of employment, he felt it was more prudent to have a full belly before going in. It wasn't that he feared attacking her; he had more self-control than that. But thirst associated with bloodlust could affect his mental capabilities. And as a doctor, Carlisle had to be on top of his game.

Bella Swan…

As water and soap suds sluiced down his pale skin, he found himself smiling. This being Dr. Coleman's day off, Carlisle would be doing the morning rounds for him today, meaning he would see her again. His smile broadened a little.

Snapping out of it, he wiped the expression off his face, and frowned beneath the spray. _What's gotten into you? _he wondered while scrubbing his chest and forearms. Of course, even without morning rounds, he had planned on checking in on her at least once. He had saved her life after all. But why the sudden fascination?

Technically he didn't know her. Oh, but he wanted to.

His frown deepened. He was being stupid, unprofessional. Bella was human. And today, she would be his patient. _Damn bloodlust_. It was screwing with his brain. _Enough of this_.

Washing as quickly as he could—at vampiric speed, it took less than four seconds—Carlisle shut off the water, stepped out of the shower, and grabbed a towel. Once his body was dry, he wrapped said towel around his hips, and proceeded to blow-dry his hair. As he stood in front of the mirror, combing his hair back, his eyes went to the ring he wore on his left hand.

Crafted in polished silver, the ring bore the Cullen crest. Despite the partial brokenness of his coven, the symbol meant a great deal to him, each element representing who they were.

Silver on black, the main element was a lion. Its front paw raised in the air, the animal represented the strength and ferocity of vampires. In contrast, the hand above the lion's head was a symbol of faith and sincerity, showing that, despite everything, the three members of his coven—correction, his family—were loyal to one another. Lastly, the trefoil at the bottom symbolized perpetuality, the vampires' inability to die naturally.

Commissioned back in 1920, the ring had adorned his finger for ninety-seven years. The other two members of his coven wore the crest as well, one on a leather cuff bracelet, the other on a pendant necklace.

Indeed, Carlisle had sired two vampires in his life, a selfish choice, if he was honest. Having lived on his own for so very long, he had entertained the hope of forming his own coven, a group of vampires living side-by-side in happiness, as a real family would. But his hopes had fallen short, for the life of a vampire was not an easy one, and those he had sired had never fully accepted their immortal existence.

"_Why did you do this to me?_" He could still hear the anguish in his first companion's voice.

Edward.

Now a Cullen, he had been Edward Anthony Masen junior in his former life. A short human life of twenty-one years that had ended during the influenza outbreak of 1918. "_Changing me_… _You thought that's what my dying mother meant when she begged you to save me?_" he had cried late one night, in the summer of 1941, when the stress and burden of his vampiric nature had pushed him to a tragic breaking point. Newly departed from Forks, they had resided in Mobile, Alabama at the time. "_Look at what I've become! An abomination with the worst of addictions_." His eyes veiled with venom tears that could not fall, Edward had hung his head, his voice broken when, at last, he had said, "_You took away my soul, Carlisle_."

That memory was as vivid now as it had been in the immediate aftermath, the accompanying guilt just as strong as it had been back then.

_Be well, my brother. Wherever you are. _

His thoughts shifting to his second companion, Carlisle was besieged by yet another wave of regret.

Rosalie Lillian Hale. Although well suited to her vegetarian lifestyle, the statuesque blond had never accepted the loss of her humanity. "_I was twenty. I was beautiful. My life was perfect until that night_." Those had been her words to him. To this day, she resented Carlisle for the choice he had made for her back in 1935. "_You should have let me die_."

It had been a cold winter night in Rochester, New York. Walking home after his shift, he had caught the smell of her blood, and stopped in his tracks. Concerned, Carlisle had followed the scent until he had found her in the street, battered and broken, an inch away from death. By the state of her clothing and the many scents around her, he had known that a group of drunken men had done this, and that beating her was not all they had done. As if that wasn't bad enough, Carlisle had later learned that one of her attackers had been none other than her fiancé. A cruel twist, with a ruthless and tragic end.

Gathering her broken body, Carlisle had carried her to his home, where he had swept her golden hair aside, exposing her bruised neck. Then, with a heartfelt apology for the burning pain he was about to cause, he had bitten and broken her skin, forever changing her.

At the time, he had thought he was doing the right thing. She being close to Edward's age, he had hoped the two might become mates one day, thus bringing a measure of happiness to his companion's existence. But Edward had been furious, and the two had never hit it off, not in that way.

Despite her initial fury and her lingering resentment, Rosalie had chosen to follow Carlisle in the end. A reluctant companion at first, she had since fallen into the rhythm of their coven life. And over the course of these long years, the two had a grown somewhat closer. Close enough that Carlisle now loved her as a sister. She, in turn, cared for him as a brother, too. Oh, she was vain and frigid most of the time, but underneath the pain she still bore, Rosalie was a good person. A woman who not only valued human life, but grieved for the loss of her own.

Never again. That was his vow. No matter how lonely he got, for as long as he "lived", Carlisle would never sire another vampire, condemning them to this difficult and lonely existence, damning their very souls. The cost was simply too high, the ensuing guilt too heavy to bear.

His dead heart going out to Rosalie, Carlisle set his comb back in a drawer, and turned his thoughts to her. _May you find peace and happiness someday_.

Exiting the bathroom, Carlisle made for the walk-in closet, where he chose black slacks, a pale blue shirt, and a textured navy tie. Dressed and ready to face the day, he looked at the time and saw that he still had three hours to go before the start of his shift.

That was the thing about being a vampire. Unlike humans, Carlisle couldn't sleep the hours away. It was the reason this room wasn't a typical bedroom. First of all, there was no bed in here, only a sitting area comprised of a worn leather chair, a love seat, a coffee table covered in medical journals, a reading lamp, a large area rug, and a sleek fireplace.

Built into one of the walls was yet another bookcase. Some of the shelves were lined with tomes, while others held mementos from the various places he had been to over the centuries. On a middle shelf was a vintage record player and a record collection—gifts from Edward, when he had returned to live with them in the mid 1980s. For Carlisle, it had been a happy time, the three of them living under one roof. It didn't last, though. After two and a half years, Edward had left once again, and hadn't lived with them since.

Thankfully, he called or visited sometimes. Every other month, he would send postcards or emails.

Coming to stand by the large windows lining the wall, Carlisle surveyed the vista beyond the glass. Minutes turned into an hour. An hour became two. Dawn was breaking now. Rosalie had yet to return home.

Because Forks was one of the rainiest locations in the United States, the sudden drizzle came as no surprise. But then, that was the reason he and Rosalie had chosen to return here, for sunny days and vampires made a poor combination in this day and age.

It wasn't like the movies. Vampires didn't burst into flames when exposed to sunlight. But because their cells were hard and refractive, their skin sparkled like diamonds under the sun.

Thinking he would check the forecast before heading out, Carlisle descended to the home's middle level. In the living-room nearest to the kitchen, he sought and pressed the remote. As was usually the case, the television was set to the Weather Channel.

Because he and Rosalie didn't have a crystal ball, they always kept a careful watch over the forecast—less chance of being caught out in the sun that way. In fact, when the forecast promised clear skies, Carlisle always arranged for time off. For now, though, it seemed like he would be going to work for the next few days. The meteorologists predicted rain all day today, tomorrow, then again on Tuesday and Wednesday. Of course, that could change between now and then. But so far, things looked good.

Carlisle pressed the power button on the remote. No sooner had the television gone dark, than he stood in the kitchen, where he grabbed his favourite travel mug. He never actually drank out of it, but he pretended to. It was a small detail, but like breathing and blinking, it made him appear more human.

Cup in hand, cell phone in his pocket, he descended the staircase leading to the ground floor. Passing by his father's cross, Carlisle fetched one of his dressier jackets, and headed out into the garage, where his vehicle was parked.

Like the past two cars he had owned, it was a black Mercedes. But unlike its predecessors, it was an S-Class W222. All told, it was a sleek and classy ride, powerful but quiet in the way it handled. Being fairly new, the car had less than ten thousand miles on it.

Once the garage door had opened behind him, Carlisle started the car, and put it in reverse. As he drove down the long, winding drive that bisected the forest, he turned on the radio in time to catch the tail-end of a local news segment.

"…_repairs to the broken water line should be complete by the end of the day," _the female newscaster said._ "In the meantime, residents of Park Street are being asked to boil their water for a minimum of ten minutes before consumption. In other news, the search continues for twenty-five year old Melissa Jones, who was last seen three days ago outside her home in the town of Sappho, a small community in Clallam County. When last seen, Ms. Jones was wearing a red jacket, blue jeans, and white running shoes. Five feet two inches tall, she is one hundred and twenty pounds, has brown hair and green eyes. If anyone has any information regarding the woman's whereabouts, they are asked to contact the Sappho Police Department at—"_

Eyes on the road, Carlisle frowned at the troubling news. _Another one_, he thought, recalling the recent disappearance of a seventy year old man, on the banks of the Calawah River. Surely, it was a coincidence. At least, he hoped it was.

* * *

Charlie was hovering.

It felt kind of strange because her father had never been one to hover. Still shaken by her recent accident and subsequent surgery, he had arrived at the hospital as soon as visiting hours had started.

Dressed in a plaid shirt and jeans, he re-entered the room for the second time in fifteen minutes. "I had to go down to the cafeteria, but I finally found a straw. Here you go, Bells." Leaning forward, he held the glass for her.

Water and ice chips. _Thank God_. Her throat was parched and raw.

Wincing at the pain, Bella raised her head enough to take a small sip, then one more. "Thanks, Ch… dad." Her head flopped back against the pillow.

"A habit you can't shake, huh? Calling me Charlie instead of dad." In her teen years, he had hated it. Right now, her father didn't seem to mind, though. His mouth curved in a teasing smirk, Charlie set her glass on the bedside cabinet, and sat back down.

"Sorry," was her reply, delivered on a sheepish smile.

"It's alright. I'm just happy you're okay." He meant it, too. She could see it in his eyes. "Do you need anything else?"

"I'm fine, dad." Okay, so that wasn't exactly true. She was far from fine. Despite the pain meds, her abdomen was downright sore. And because of her concussion, Bella had a nasty headache and a painful sensitivity to light. Thankfully, the curtains were closed for now, and the lights in the room weren't overly bright.

"Fine?" Charlie huffed a laugh, but then his features grew serious. "You could have died, kid. If it hadn't been for Dr. Cullen…"

Of course, her surgeon had been Luke Coleman, a long-time physician here in Forks, but the man who had found her in the woods had been one of the younger doctors here.

"_My name's Carlisle. I'm a doctor. I'm here to help you_." Despite being pretty out of it at the time, Bella remembered the soothing quality of his voice, his blond head of hair. His face, however, was a fuzzy image in her mind. Most of it at least. Somehow, the color of his eyes was engraved in her memory, a brown so deep and dark it bordered on black.

"A concussion, hypothermia, a liver laceration," Charlie went on, unaware of her musings. "If he hadn't found you when he did…" Clearly wanting to think of other things, he reached for his cell phone. "Oh, I forgot to tell you. Audrey texted me before I left home. She said,"—he squinted at the screen—"'Tell Bella I'm driving over today. Should be there sometime before lunch.'"

"She's coming here?" Bella perked up a little at that, but had to settle back down. God, her head was hurting.

Audrey was her best friend. The two had met five years ago, when Bella had landed a job as a proofreader for a Seattle-based home and garden magazine.

Touched by the fact that her friend was driving over, Bella lamented the loss of her cell phone. Likely, it was on that wooded slope somewhere, broken or ruined by the rain. She would have to get another one soon.

A glance at the clock told her it was just after nine.

"So where'd Evan go?" Charlie asked and threw a harsh look at the door. He had never liked Evan.

"He went to get breakfast when you stepped out to get water." Too tired to say anything else, Bella closed her eyes for a moment.

Although Charlie was not privy to all the goings-on in her life, he knew enough to gather all was not well between her and her boyfriend—actually, Evan had been her fiancé up until a few weeks ago. They had since decided to slow things down.

Quite frankly, their relationship was a confusing mess right now, had been since last Christmas. It was one of the reasons she had wanted to drive up here. A break as it were, an opportunity to re-evaluate things and hopefully catch her bearings. Plus, she liked visiting her dad.

But then, that bear had come out of nowhere, and her plan had gone to hell.

_At least you're alive, _she reminded herself.

The sound of approaching footsteps drew her out of her thoughts. Keeping her movements to a bare minimum, Bella opened her eyes, and pivoted her head against the pillow.

At first, all she saw was a black pair of slacks and matching leather shoes. Lifting her gaze, she saw that the man was wearing a lab coat, her chart held in his hands. He was wearing a ring, she noted. Silver and bulky, it was the kind of ring one would see on a football player. And yet, there was a different feel to it. Maybe it was the crest, but it was more elegant than a standard championship ring.

Even with a partial view, Bella could tell the man was tall and slender. He wasn't a twig, though. He was fit. Whoever this was, it wasn't Dr. Coleman. As he approached her and flipped through the pages, her vision expanded enough to see his face.

Her jaw dropped.

"Isabella," he said, smiling as he read her name. "Though if memory serves, you go by Bella." Now he lowered the chart, holding it against his abdomen as he waited for her reply.

But Bella hadn't moved. She wasn't saying anything. Her mouth was still open.

_Holy mother of… _

The man was beauty incarnate, a blond headed God with a kind voice and even kinder eyes.

Wait.

Was it… him? Her rescuer? Dr. Cullen?

His hair was certainly the right color. But his eyes… His eyes weren't as dark as she remembered.

Closing her mouth, she searched for something, anything, to say. "Bella or Isabella. You can call me whichever. I don't mind."

Wait, what?

_Did I really just say that?_

Because truth of the matter was, she usually insisted on being called Bella. Charlie and her mother, Renée, had called her Bella her whole entire life. But damn if she didn't like the way her full name sounded on this man's lips.

His smile revealing dimples in his cheeks, the doctor nodded and regarded her with caramel eyes. "Very well, then. Isabella." Her insides quivered. "I'm Dr. Cullen." His eyes flickered to her father then. "Hi, Charlie."

"Well if it isn't the man of the hour. Hey, doc." Her father had already gained his feet. Once the two had exchanged a handshake, Charlie excused himself, knowing the doctor would have to examine her.

Setting her chart aside, Dr. Cullen closed the privacy curtain, and went to wash his hands at the sink near the foot of her bed. Once he was done, he pulled some disposable gloves from a container on the wall.

"So, how are you feeling this morning?" he asked as he neared.

"Truthfully?"

"The truth is always best."

"I feel like I've been hit by a freight train. My head is pounding. I can't stand the light. And my stomach hurts like a b—" Smothering the offensive word just in time, she felt herself blush, and smiled in embarrassment.

"That's to be expected. Once we're done here, I'll ask the nurse to bring you something for the pain. May I?" Dr. Cullen was now pointing at her abdomen.

Aware that he needed to inspect the site of her incision, Bella gave a small nod. "Sure." Revealing the stitches took a bit of painful maneuvering, but with the doctor's gentle help, she managed well enough. As she breathed through her discomfort, Bella focused on the man who was now leaning over her.

His pale skin was inhumanly smooth, like he had been airbrushed. His lips were full, she noted, his lashes long and dark. The classical angles of his face were so perfect, he looked like he belonged in a religious work of art. Recalling a recent visit to one of her favourite museums, Bella found he bore a likeness to the main subject in an oil painting she had admired, one depicting a beautiful avenging angel with downcast features and a pale head of hair. Though she couldn't recall the artist's name, the piece had been titled "Gabriel".

"I see no unusual redness," Dr. Cullen declared at length. For some reason, he seemed tense compared to when he had walked in here. What's more, there seemed to be a slight strain to his voice, one that wasn't there before. "No sign of infection."

Finished with his visual examination, he helped with the lowering of her gown. When he glanced toward the monitors beside her bed, Bella thought she saw a change in his eyes. Instead of the caramel hue she had noticed earlier, his irises were a deep ocher.

But that was silly. Eyes couldn't change color. Clearly Bella was imagining or seeing things. A product of tiredness perhaps. Or maybe it was due to her concussion. Whatever the reason, she chose to let it go.

"Your vitals are all good. I believe we're all done," he declared, putting a fair bit of distance between them. "Like I said earlier, I'll have the nurse give you more pain meds." Making for a trashcan, Dr. Cullen removed and disposed of his gloves. "Your body has been through a lot. You're going to need a great deal of rest over the coming days." For a moment, Bella thought she heard a slight shift in his accent. He sounded British.

As she fought to make sense of this, half wondering if she had imagined it, Dr. Cullen loosened his collar, grabbed her chart, and cleared his throat. Then, before she knew it, he had slipped past the privacy curtain and was gone, his footsteps echoing and fading as he hurried down the corridor.


	4. Chapter 4 - Heart-Searching

**As always, thanks go out to all my readers, with a special shoutout going to the amazing reviewers who left comments on chapter 3: chellekathrynnn, Goldielover, leelee202, Ruiniel, leward1992, Guest, and Synphonia. **

**If this story had a soundtrack, the song for this chapter would be "Chrysalis" by S. Carey.**

* * *

**CHAPTER 4**

**HEART-SEARCHING**

Evan had fallen asleep at her bedside, his elbow resting against the arm of his chair, his cheek propped against his fist.

Having just awakened, Bella regarded him for a quiet moment, her rueful eyes skimming over his features. His jaw was strong and angular, his lower lip fuller than the upper one. Because his head was tipped slightly forward, a lock of his hair had fallen over his brow, making him seem slightly younger than his thirty-two years.

When he had first approached her, one sunny afternoon, in a small café in downtown Seattle, Bella's first thoughts had been that he was handsome, bold and confident, too.

_"Fun fact about Seattle_…" Those had been his first words to her, spoken as he had walked up to her table. When he had plopped down on the chair directly across from hers, Bella had blinked at the sudden intrusion.

"_Do you know it's the most literate city in America?_" he had gone on to say, indicating the book in her hand. "_We have the most bookstores and libraries per capita_. _And we have the most library card holders. There's a lot of smart people here_."

He had flashed a lopsided smile then, one she had found both charming and disarming.

"_I take it you like to read?_" she had stammered, then gathered herself.

"_Depends on the type of reading. Books like the one you're reading?_" He had pointed to her copy of Wives and Daughters, and shaken his head. "_They're not my thing_."

"_You don't like novels. Got it._ _So what do you like, then?_"

He had given a shrug. "_The Seattle Times, namely the sports and finance section._"

"_Sports and finance." _Not quite sure what to make of that combination, Bella had reached for her coffee, and teased, "_Heavy stuff._" Before she could grasp the disposable cup, however, he had held out his hand.

"_My name's Evan Miller. And you are?_"

After a moment of hesitation, she had returned his handshake. "_Bella_."

"_Bella_," he'd echoed, smiling as he'd held her gaze. "_Nice to meet you, Bella_."

Three years had passed since that fateful spring day. Funny how it now seemed like a lifetime ago.

For the first two years, things had been good between them. Like crazy good. Despite being a consummate professional, Evan was fun and sweet. Funny. God, he'd made her laugh, sometimes until she cried. Even now, some of the memories they had made took her breath away, like the time they had taken a trip to Napa Valley, where he'd gotten down on one knee, and popped the question.

Because marriage was a touchy subject with Bella, she had panicked a little at first, but only for a moment. Head over heels in love with him, she had breathed a fragile, "_yes_" before extending her trembling hand so he could slide the ring on her finger.

The excitement of their engagement had been frightening and dizzying at first. But then, seemingly out of the blue, their relationship had begun to change.

At first, Bella had thought it might be a combination of stress related to their jobs, the wedding they couldn't seem to plan, and their clashing opinions in their search for their future home.

_Every couple goes through this. It's normal_, she had rationalized, hoping it would pass. But it hadn't passed. If anything, their mutual frustrations had only increased. They argued a lot. And when they weren't fighting, Evan was practically never there.

"_Work just called again._" How many times she had heard those exact words, Bella couldn't really say. "_I'm sorry, I gotta go. I'll make it up to you, though_. _I promise_."

As a financial planner at a small, and relatively new, wealth management firm, his job took a sizeable chunk of his time. But somehow, things felt off. He was different, absent or distracted, except for those intervals when he would shower her with flowers and apologies.

It was maddening, confusing. And with him being gone half the time, she had soon wondered if there was another woman in his life. It would explain the guilt she would sometimes see in his eyes. Lacking actual proof, however, Bella had chosen to confront him about it.

A few weeks ago, when Evan should have been home but hadn't been, she had stood in front of her bathroom mirror, pointing an accusing finger at her reflection. "_You_," she had scolded herself. "_You're a grown-ass woman, not a needy teenager. You should have more self-respect than this_." If he was cheating, she wasn't going to ignore it. No. It was time to face the truth, whatever it was.

Fueled by her newfound determination, Bella hadn't gone to bed that night. Rather, she had sat in their small living-room, within view of the entryway, and waited.

"_Bella?" _Evan had said upon entering the apartment._ "It's one in the morning, what are you doing up?_"

Not wanting to beat around the bush, she had gained her feet, her voice surprisingly level when she had answered, "_Waiting for you. I need to ask you something_, _and I need you to tell me the truth_."

Puzzled and wary, Evan had tossed his keys in a bowl by the door. "_Okay_."

_"Are you seeing someone else?_"

His frown had been immediate. "_What, no!"_

"_No?_" Her voice had trembled a little.

"_No_," he had reiterated, and seemed offended.

Unable to tell if he had been lying or not, Bella had thrown up her hands. "_Then what's going on with you?_ _With us? We argue all the time. We never go out anymore. You're hardly ever here. And when you are, you're not. It's like… like your head is caught in a cloud somewhere. Just… tell me, okay?_"

"_Look, I promise you. There's no one else_."

Frustrated by his answer, Bella had pinched the bridge of her nose. "_If you're not cheating, then what is it? What's happening to us?_"

Sighing, he had hung his coat on a hook by the door. "_You know work has been busy_. _The company is finally starting to take off. Alex is now talking about adding me on as a business partner. I wouldn't just be working there anymore, I'd be part owner." _Tired and annoyed, he had crossed the space, and made his way to the adjacent kitchen, where he'd grabbed a soda can from the fridge, and popped the lid._ "I have a shot at this, Bella. But to earn my place, I have to put in the work. Out of all people, I thought you'd understand that. I mean, you're practically married to your job_."

"_My job? My job isn't my life, Evan_."

He had cocked a brow at that. Bella enjoyed her job, sure, and she aimed to do it well. But working as a proofreader at a magazine wasn't as exciting as she had first thought it to be.

"_Fine. We both work a lot," _she had conceded._ "But that doesn't explain this weird strain between us. Sometimes, I get the feeling you don't know what you want anymore_." When he made no reply, she had swallowed against the tightness in her throat. "_Is that it? Is that why you've pulled away from me?_"

His silence had been like a kick in the mouth. Maybe he was cheating, maybe he wasn't. But one thing was certain: he wasn't happy, and neither was she.

"_Well if you don't know what you want, maybe I shouldn't be wearing this, then_." Quietly, and with a shaking hand, Bella had removed her engagement ring.

As she had held it out, Evan had closed his eyes. When next he had looked to her, his feet had brought him closer. "_That's not… Bella…_" He had protested in whispers.

"_It doesn't take a rocket scientist to know we've hit a rough patch. And if you need time_, _you know what? That's okay. I think I need time, too._" Because he hadn't taken the ring, she had placed it on their coffee table, and retreated to their room.

They had talked some more that night, then again the following day. Though they hadn't actually ended things, Bella and Evan had agreed that marriage was not a good idea right now. Moreover, because she had a lot of soul-searching to do, Bella had asked that he sleep in a separate room for the time being.

Ever since then, the same questions kept repeating in her mind.

_Does he really love me?_

_Is he really working late?_

_Can I trust him?_

Trust. The essential ingredient to any successful relationship. Without it, was there even a point?

Late one Tuesday night, Bella had been lying in bed, unable to sleep, when a new and distressing question had arisen in her thoughts.

_Am I falling out of love with him?_

Thinking the answer might be yes, she had called Charlie the very next day, asking if she could visit. When he had agreed, Bella had felt this incredible sense of relief. _Distance_, she had thought, cemented in her decision to take some time for herself. _Distance will do me good. _

In an unhappy twist of fate, however, she had wrecked her car just shy of her destination, her injuries landing her in the hospital bed in which she lay. Now her former fiancé was sleeping at her bedside, the uncertainty of their relationship as heavy now as it had been when she had left their apartment, her keys in one hand, and her suitcase in the other.

Head pivoting against her pillow, Bella left Evan to his dreams, and looked past the doorway, to the nurse's station just across the hall. As was usually the case this time of day, the area behind the desk was thrumming with activity, nurses and secretaries going about their business with smooth efficiency. That is until a certain blond doctor strode into the work space. No sooner had he done so than most of the nurses faltered in what they were doing. Some were staring with lovestruck expressions, while the rest were blushing and saying, "Hi, Dr. Cullen."

_What is up with that?_

Carlisle Cullen was insanely attractive, that much was true. But the way these nurses were acting around him, as if they were caught in some weird spell… it wasn't normal. Recalling her own reaction upon seeing him the other day—the instant and visceral pull he'd had on her—Bella knew it wasn't normal either.

Even now the effect lingered, her heart quickening as she watched him from afar.

Dr. Cullen, who had been leafing through some papers, seemed to freeze all of a sudden. Facing away from her, he then turned his face, but not enough to catch her eyes.

As Bella's pulse quickened even more, he loosened his tie a bit. Then he raked a hand through his hair. Just like the other day in her room, his posture was tense. He seemed bothered, flustered. He looked to the sheet in front of him. Trying to make sense of his behavior, Bella thought that maybe he was going over some test results, and wasn't happy with what he was seeing.

She watched him for a moment longer. Speaking words she could not hear, Dr. Cullen handed the papers over to a nurse, and was on his way. When he hurried past her room, chin lowered, his fingers scratching behind his ear, he did not look in her direction. And yet she could have sworn he was aware of her.

Bella sighed_. Here you go again, imagining things._ Damn concussion.

Hoping to cast the strange and mysterious doctor from her thoughts, she glanced at her bedside table. The flowers and cards brought a small smile to her face. Some were from the police department, others from the people at Bella's work. "_Everyone signed," _Audrey had told her when she had first arrived_. "Hence the reason it took three cards_." Two of the bouquets were from family friends who lived on the reservation. Strangely enough, none of them had come by—not even Billy Black and his son, Jacob. Instead, they had given the flowers to Charlie, and asked if he would give them to her.

Her attention shifting to a brown teddy bear, Bella had to chuckle. _Charlie_. He might not be the most openly affectionate man in the world, but he was a good father. In his eyes, she was his little girl, even at thirty years old. She doubted that would ever change.

Having spent the first three days at her bedside, Charlie had returned to work today, but had promised to drop by again later. It suited her, if she was honest. Being stuck in a hospital bed was bad enough, seeing the lingering concern on her father's face made it even worse. Banged up as she was, Bella was healing, and was going to be okay. The sooner people would stop fussing and return to their lives, the better it would be.

It was just after eleven in the morning. As was usually the case in Forks, rain was battering the windows, the sound echoing through the closed curtains.

Needing to stretch her back a little, Bella pushed herself into a straighter position. Her body being sore, she hissed through the pain, then relaxed against the slanted portion of her mattress.

To her left, Evan stirred. His blue eyes blinked open. When he saw that she was awake, his sleepy expression morphed into a warm smile. He stretched. "Hey, beautiful." He'd been extra sweet since the accident.

"Hey."

"I nodded off, didn't I? Sorry." Chuckling softly, Evan rose and leaned forward. His gaze fixed onto hers, he swept her hair back, and deposited a small kiss to her brow. Conflicted by his nearness, Bella turned her head a little.

Discerning her discomfort, he eased away, and asked, "How are you feeling?"

"I'm alright. Just looking forward to getting out of here. Dr. Coleman says another five or six days and I should be ready to leave."

"That's good. Only I hope you're going to take it easy when you get home." Bella's reluctance must have been apparent because Evan seemed puzzled all of a sudden. "What?"

_Might as well say it now_. "I need to talk to you about something."

Nodding, he sat back down, and waited.

"I think it's sweet that you're here, and that you've been waiting for me to get better, but I don't think I'll be heading to Seattle right away."

His mouth opened in confusion. "If this is about your follow ups, I'm sure they can transfer your case to—"

"It's not that. Things have been busy this year. I've missed spending time with Charlie. He's alone up here. When mom died—divorced or not—he took her death pretty hard. I think me staying here for a bit will do him some good." Her chest rose and fell on an extended breath. "And me as well. Anyway, he asked if I would stay. I think I will. At least for a few weeks."

His fingers skimmed along her forearm, a dim smile finding light on his face. "And here I thought you hated this rainy town."

"I admit, I wasn't so fond of it as a teen. High school was endless. I never really fit in. But life happens, and our perspectives change. I think I need to do this. To reconnect." _And figure things out. Maybe find myself again._

A moment went by. "Alright." He gave a nod. "But I'm staying until you're out of the hospital." Evan staying at Charlie's… It was a somewhat scary thought.

Instead of voicing this, however, she arched her brows. "All that time off? Who are you and what have you done with Evan?"

"Shocking, I know." The moment stretched on. His smile began to fade. "Look, I realize things haven't been easy between us. And I know that we have a lot to sort through, but when Charlie called me to say you were in an accident…" He blew out a tremulous breath. "It felt like the world had shattered beneath my feet. Like, like… Bella, you know I lo—"

"Evan, don't," she stopped him, but not harshly.

She knew what he had been about to say—that he still loved her. At one time, she would have said it back, without hesitation. But right now, despite caring for him, she couldn't bring herself to say it. Not yet. Maybe not ever.

"I just…" She searched for the words. "I know you're worried, but nothing's changed. I need to breathe. I'm pretty sure you do, too."

Evan pursed his lips, his gaze lowering as he absorbed her words.

"Besides, somebody has to take care of Lollipop."

Lollipop was her rescue cat. Fat and fluffy, she was positively ancient. A real grouch. Bella adored the furball.

"How's your mother managing, by the way?" she asked, hoping to lighten the mood.

Evan rubbed the back of his neck. "Well you know how she is." The woman was terrified of cats. "Mom's being helpful," he went on to say. "She's been feeding her. This morning, she even cleaned the litter box. But when she drops by, she's in and out of there. Lightning fast."

Bella chuckled at that. They both did.

But then, his amusement ceding to a rueful expression, Evan said, "If you truly need space, I'll respect that. I'll grab my stuff later, and I'll head out this afternoon. How's that?"

"Thanks, Evan." The sentiment was genuine.

A familiar ringtone sounded just then, interrupting the moment.

"Sorry." He glanced down at his phone. "I gotta take this."

Like always, he turned his full attention to the incoming call, raising his cell to his ear and stepping out of the room. "Hey."

For the span of several heartbeats, Bella stared at the empty doorway, and wondered. Was it work, or someone else?

When she had first entertained the possibility that he was being unfaithful, she had been troubled and angry. But now, for some strange reason, she was mostly numb over the whole thing. Resigned seemed like a good word for it. After all, wouldn't it hurt less if she saw it coming?

Moments later, the rhythmic clicking of heels drifted in from the corridor, each footfall getting closer and closer until a familiar face came into view.

"Audrey." A genuine smile found its way to Bella's mouth.

"I come bearing gifts," her friend beamed, displaying a paper bag. "With lunch coming up, I thought I would bring edible food. Because that cafeteria stuff..." Audrey trailed, and actually shuddered. "Anyway, I got you some crispy chicken parmigiana with arugula _and_ a pasta salad."

"Where'd you get all that?"

At five foot ten, Audrey's lanky frame towered over Bella's. She wore glasses, large with a clear plastic frame. Her reddish-blond hair was gathered in a ponytail, the strands as straight as her bangs. Passionate about her style, she wore blazers every day—blazers with skirts, dresses, dressy pants, and jeans. In short, blazers with practically everything.

By that, one might think, "serious and stylish, a powerhouse", only Audrey was a tad too colorful for that. She owned blazers of every color imaginable—from yellow to orange, bright blue, green, and purple. As if that wasn't bright enough, she liked to wear matching jewelry as well, matchy-matchy accessories like bangles and earrings of the exact same color as her blazer of the day.

It was cute and brave, original. Bella admired her friend's uniqueness, her willingness to march to the beat of her own drum. Unfortunately, some of the people at work didn't always get Audrey's style—or Audrey herself for that matter. A few of them even went so far as calling her "Skittles".

Sitting in the chair Evan had just vacated, Audrey took the food out of the bag, and answered Bella's query. "I got it in the deli section at the Thriftway. It's far from fine dining, but anything beats hospital foo…"

Her sentence remained unfinished. Audrey was just sitting there, slack-jawed as she held the salad container a few inches from her chest. "Dear God in heaven," she gasped, and stared beyond the doorway. "Who is _that_?"

"That," Bella answered, already knowing who she would see, "is Dr. Cullen."

Sure enough, he had returned to the nurse's station, and was now conferring with Dr. Coleman.

Her friend pushed her glasses higher on her nose. "Hot damn…"

_I know, _Bella almost said but didn't.

Audrey went on, "Is it even legal to look that good?"

The two kept on staring. "No idea."

At that, the two friends exchanged a glance. And then they laughed.

"My stitches. Ow," Bella complained, holding her sore stomach. As her laughter tapered off, Audrey pulled some magazines out of a large tote bag. "Something to help pass the time," she explained. "I brought Reader's Digest and National Geographic. I would have bought more, but all they had were tabloids and the latest issue of Cosmo. I knew you wouldn't care for those."

As a self-proclaimed nerd herself, Audrey didn't care for those publications either. "I bought a few treats, too." Now she produced a selection of candy bars.

"What would I ever do without you?"

"Oh, you'd manage, I'm sure." Her mirth ceding to honest warmth, Audrey said. "I'm glad you're okay, Bella."

Since she was only leaving for Seattle in the morning, Audrey stayed for the remainder of the day. Evan, for his part, respected Bella's wishes and took off shortly after lunch. Once he had gone, her friend looked to her, and asked. "Have you decided anything?" She meant about Evan.

"I think I'll have a better idea once I've had some time to myself. But I'm leaning in one direction, yeah."

"You're strong." By this, it was clear Audrey knew which way she was leaning. With a nod of encouragement, she declared, "You'll be alright."

Bella appreciated that. When Audrey dropped by the following morning, the two said their goodbyes. "Text or call me when you get home?" Now that Charlie had surprised her with a brand-new cell phone—he had brought it last night—Bella was finally able to contact her friends without using the landline in the room.

"Will do." Audrey said and hugged her. "Take care and get better, okay?"

"Will do," Bella echoed.

As her healing continued, the days and nights blended together. Over the next few days, Bella read, or slept, or passed the time by thinking and staring out the window. Now that her head felt better, her eyes weren't as sensitive to the light anymore. After days of dim lighting, it was nice seeing the sky again, even if it was dreary and gray.

Three days after Audrey left, the sun finally came out. Dr. Cullen must have had the day off, because she didn't see him at all that day, nor the one after that.

The next time she saw him, Bella was nearing the end of her hospital stay. In fact, Dr. Coleman had said she might get to go home. "_Maybe as early as tomorrow_," he had said during his rounds earlier that morning.

Bella was feeling much better, it was true. Though she was still sore, she could move around now. A whopping five minutes of continuous walking was her current limit, though—for the entire week. Next week, if her body allowed, she would go for a full ten.

She was bored. Seeing as she had reached her walking quota, Bella opted to pass the time by venturing out in her wheelchair.

Compared to the hospitals in Seattle, Forks General was pretty small, a county hospital with a relatively small staff and an even smaller cafeteria. The food here was mostly bland, but the tea and coffee machines were decent enough.

It was just past nine in the morning. With a piping hot coffee in one hand, Bella maneuvered her wheelchair toward her room. She was rolling by the chapel when something drew her gaze.

Slowing to a stop, Bella stared past the doorway, into the dimly-lit room beyond. There, sitting in the first row, was Dr. Cullen. Dressed in scrubs, he was leaning forward, his elbows resting on his knees. At present, his chin was dipped downward, his eyes directed at the floor. His golden hair stood every which way, as though he had repeatedly raked his fingers through it.

There was a weariness about him, or maybe it was sadness. Clearly, he was having a rough day.

Unlike the other times she had seen him, Bella's pulse didn't quicken. Instead, her heart only went out to him.

Thinking she would leave before he noticed, she turned the wheel of her chair a little.

But too late.

Dr. Cullen had already seen her. Now they were both staring.

Embarrassed, Bella blushed, and continued on her way.

Having read all her magazines, she spent the following hours watching random shows on her small bedside TV. At dinner time, Charlie dropped by.

"Since we only have that one bathroom," he explained, "I suppose you'll have to stay upstairs for the first few days. At least your room's ready. I even found those little string-lights in the attic. The ones that used to hang on your walls. Gonna put them up tonight." He gave a brief smile. "I have the rest of the week off. You won't have to go up and down the stairs. You won't have to worry about meals either." A flush crept onto his cheeks. "And if ever you need help with other things. Getting in or out of the shower or what not, Sue said she'd come over and lend a hand."

"Sounds good." Though thankful for all he was doing, Bella truly hated being fussed over, and couldn't wait to be better again.

_At least I'll be home_.

Charlie left around eight that night. Before he went, however, he headed down to the cafeteria and got her some herbal tea.

Alone in her room, not quite ready to sleep, Bella thought she might head out for one final spin around the halls. No sooner had she gotten in her chair than an idea came to mind.

Her gaze went to her metal locker.

Moments later, she was heading out of her room, her coat zipped over her pajamas. "I'm just going outside for a few minutes," she told one of the nurses who was walking by. There was an exit just at the end of the hall, beyond which was a bench and a trashcan. Over the past two days, Bella had gone out there a few times, to clear her head mostly, and breathe the open air.

* * *

He shouldn't go out there. He shouldn't seek her out when the sane and cautious thing to do was to stay right here, at the empty nurse's station, where a stack of paperwork was awaiting his perusal. But his singer had just rolled by, grabbing his attention as she made for the nearest exit.

Though no one was out there at the moment, the area beyond the doors was a popular spot for those who needed fresh air or a smoke. Since he knew she wasn't a smoker, Carlisle figured she was heading out for the former. He couldn't blame her. Being cooped up in a hospital could be hard on patients. At least she was better now. In fact, Bella was on the verge of being sent home.

Rolling his chair a little closer to the desk, Carlisle affixed his signature on a page, and reached for another.

A _thump_ and _whir_ sounded, telling him she had pressed the button to open the doors. Moments later Bella was outside, the doors closing behind her wheelchair.

Pen in hand, Carlisle pressed on the plunger a few times, the tiny _clicks_ sounding over the hum of the hospital's ventilation system. The beep of nearby hospital equipment floated in the background, blending with the gentle snores coming from room 105. Because there were nurses working about, quiet conversations drifted in from further down the hall. Having been a physician for many long years, it was a familiar melody to his ears—the quiet start of a night shift. Usually, Carlisle would have drifted upon the sounds, but the gentle _lub-dub_ of Isabella's beating heart proved rather distracting.

_Do your work_, he admonished himself. _Concentrate_. But in the words of his coworkers, this had been a rather shitty day, and the distraction otherwise known as Bella Swan was tempting.

Spinning his chair, he ignored the discomfort in his throat—honestly, it wasn't so bad tonight—and leafed through a chart. He was rather proud of himself; his focus held for a solid minute. But then a gasp severed his concentration, the sound followed by the hollow clatter of a paper cup hitting the ground.

"God dammit." Her muttered curse drifted in from the outside. Bella had dropped her herbal tea—raspberry blend by the smell of it. "Fuck," she whispered to herself.

Frowning in concern, Carlisle worried she might have burned herself, but her softly muttered, "Way to go, Bella," suggested she was okay. Rising from his chair, he leaned over the desk, and craned his neck to see. Bella's annoyance was evident, but in a turn of good fortune, the hot liquid had missed her lap entirely. As her empty cup skidded away, carried by easterly winds, she cursed again. Only the plastic lid remained in her hand.

Before he could rethink his decision, Carlisle found himself in the nearby break room. Moments later, he was stepping through the glass doors, a cup of hot water in one hand, and three packets of herbal tea in the other.

"A little mishap?' he asked.

Bundled in a coat, Bella had wheeled herself near to the trashcan. Dropping the plastic lid in the garbage, she seemed startled by his presence. Her gaze going to the warm offering in his outstretched hand, she promptly gathered herself. With a careful push of a wheel, Bella managed to turn her chair. The two were now facing each other.

"Herbal tea mishap, yeah," she replied on a sheepish smile. "I'm something of a klutz."

As windswept leaves skittered over the pavement, Carlisle stepped closer. "A klutz, huh?"

A flush bloomed on her cheeks. "It's a gift." Her eyes went to his hand. "Is that really for me?"

"Since your tea is now seeping into the pavement, I thought you might like another one," he offered. "I wasn't sure what you'd like, though. So I brought the ones we had." He proceeded to read each packet. "Peppermint, chamomile, and jasmine." He would have brought raspberry tea, but the break room was all out.

Bella seemed rather surprised, unsure even, but then, on a small but grateful smile, she took the cup from his hand. "Um… thanks?" Chewing her lower lip, she considered the packets he had brought. In the end, she chose chamomile.

"Don't mention it." Carlisle should have left with that. He should have wished her a good night and been on his way. But like a satellite caught in her orbit, he couldn't break away.

Seemingly puzzled by his lingering presence, Bella regarded him for a moment longer. "You can sit down if you want." With a nudge of her chin, she indicated the bench beside her.

Again, Carlisle went against his better judgment, and sat down, reasoning that he'd been due for a break anyway.

At first, neither of them said anything. Bella was blowing on her tea, taking cautious sips every now and again, while Carlisle simply sat there, fiddling with the end of his tie.

This was stupid. He'd been the one to seek her out, and now he was fidgeting like a nervous idiot. In truth, he was embarrassed, the memory of their last interaction gnawing at his mind. The abrupt manner in which he had fled her room had not only been rude, it'd been downright unprofessional. _What she must think of me_.

The rustling of her jacket drew him out of his thoughts. Setting her tea on the bench, Bella reached into her pocket and produced a candy bar, of all things.

The bright red packaging crinkled as she ripped it open, revealing four interconnected sections of chocolate. Snapping the square in half, Bella held out two of the sections. "You brought tea. The least I can do is provide chocolate."

Though genuinely touched by the gesture, Carlisle raised a polite hand. "That's very kind of you, but you should keep it." Human food being unappealing to him, his refusal was not as selfless as he made it seem. And it wasn't just about the taste either. Because their organs were essentially frozen, vampires couldn't digest regular food and drink.

"Nonsense, there's enough for the two of us. Come on, doc," Bella insisted. "Besides, what's the saying, 'Have a break, have a Kit Kat'?" Her lovely mouth was now curved in a teasing smirk. Her eyes alight, she waved the chocolate, and said, "Come on, I know you want it."

He didn't. He truly didn't. But as Bella arched a beautiful brow, Carlisle laughed in spite of himself, and gave in—partly because of her charms, but mostly because of the scent that now wafted to his nose. Not the chocolate, but the sweet-smelling scent that was all Bella. Isabella.

The chocolaty strips were in his hand now. With some mental encouragement, he snapped the sections into two strips, and finally dared a bite.

It tasted awful. Seriously, chocolate was vile. But drawing upon what he liked to call his "acting talent", Carlisle chewed and swallowed nonetheless, displaying what he hoped was a convincing smile. "Mmmm."

By that point, Bella had taken a bite as well, her eyes closing in delight. "I don't know what it is about chocolate, but damn if I wasn't craving it all day."

Her words both roused and shamed him, making him squirm. While Bella was craving chocolate, here he was, secretly craving _her_. When the wind picked up, carrying and lessening her scent, Carlisle relaxed by a fraction, and took another revolting bite. _One stick down. One to go_. As the chocolate slid down his throat, he tried not to think about the fact that he would have to cough it back up later, tasting it all over again.

Not quite ready to eat the rest, he looked to her, and picked a thread of conversation. "I heard you might be getting out of here tomorrow."

Bella raised a hand near to her mouth, chewing and swallowing as quickly as she could. "Yes, thank God." By the way she said this, and the subtle roll of her eyes, Bella seemed more than ready to get out of here.

Deciding that she looked a hundred times better than the other day in her hospital room, Carlisle voiced his observation. "You look well." The sceptical look she shot him made him rethink his choice of words. "Better," he amended, sensing she would appreciate honesty over flattery. The warmth that blossomed on her features told him he had been correct.

"I know I still have a lot of healing to do, but I do feel better. Baby steps, right?"

"Baby steps," he agreed on a nod. When they lapsed into silence, Carlisle swept a gaze over the hospital grounds. The trees were swaying tonight, and the turf rippled in the wind. After several beats of her heart, he glanced over at Bella, and ventured a question. "Your dad tells me you live in Seattle. I suppose you'll be heading over there soon?"

To his surprise, she said. "Not exactly. Seeing as I'm on medical leave, and don't have to go back to work right away, I'm actually going to stay with Charlie for a few weeks."

Her chair squeaked as she turned one of the wheels, pivoting her chair until she was staring out onto the grounds. Tonight, her hair was gathered in a messy bun. Loose tendrils framed the side of her alabaster face, the strands feathering against her skin. "Maybe it's a dad thing, but he worries. Anyway, he asked if I would stay until I'm better. So I will."

Suddenly glad that she wouldn't be leaving Forks just yet, Carlisle had to rein himself in. Whether she stayed or not made no difference in the end. Starting tomorrow, Bella would no longer be a patient at this hospital. He would have no excuse to see her—not that he should.

Giving no outward sign of his disappointment, Carlisle sat back, and draped his arm over the wooden backrest. "You call your dad, Charlie?" Why he had chosen that particular question, he couldn't really say. But he had asked, and she answered, blushing anew.

"A long-time habit." Her nose crinkled a little, then she breathed a laugh. A lovely, if somewhat timid laugh, delivered as her gaze fell to her lap. "It's weird, I know."

"Unusual," he admitted on a slight chuckle. "But not weird. He loves you very much."

"He does. Of course, he's quiet and serious most of the time, but he's a good dad. He has my back, you know?"

As she spoke, Carlisle was struck by the warmth and calm she exuded, like she was _comfortable _with him. By and large, it wasn't a common thing. While some people felt an instinctive need to get away from him, others had the opposite reaction. Hot or cold, those were usually the norm. Not this level of ease, at least never so soon. Recalling her reaction to seeing him, when he had walked up to her hospital bed, he was relieved to see it.

Like most of the women—and some men—who crossed his path, Bella had not been immune to the useless tools in his arsenal. The allure that drew people in. Carlisle hated it. He'd always hated the artificial pull he had on people.

Normally, it could take up to two years for a person to get over the effect. But unlike most of the nurses who worked alongside him, Bella was now staring at him like a normal person. Gone were the doe-eyes, the involuntary quickening of her pulse. Instead, her brown eyes were filled with nothing but kindness.

Moved by the realness of the moment, Carlisle had to break eye contact for a second. _Is this real? _It seemed to be. As he looked to her once more, Bella seemed wholly unaffected by his vampiric magnetism. The way she was watching him made it seem like she was seeing him as a man. Just a man. It made his immortal life to see it.

"Are you okay?" she asked.

"Yes, forgive me." Snapping out of his musings, Carlisle blew out a breath, and dragged his fingers through his hair.

"Rough day?" Bella inquired softly, studying him as she took another sip.

Though she hadn't guessed his thoughts just now, she'd hit the nail on the head anyway. Of course, Bella had seen him at the chapel earlier that morning, where he had gone to lick his proverbial wounds and gather his sorrowful thoughts.

His dead heart growing heavier as he stared out into the night, Carlisle heaved a sigh, and murmured, "It was." A long moment went by, and then, "A patient died on my table today."

Why he had chosen to confide in her, Carlisle did not know. Only he felt like he could.

The swift breeze was overpowered by a sudden gust of wind. As nearby leaves rustled with renewed vigor, Bella pulled at her zipper, raising it so as to ward off the chill. "I'm sorry to hear that."

Their eyes met again, their gazes holding for a beat, then two.

"Thank you, Isabella."

She drank her tea in silence after that. Once they had both finished their chocolate, Carlisle gained his feet, and offered to wheel her back to her room.

"You can walk with me if you want, but you're _not_ pushing this wheelchair." Even with her smile, it was clear she meant it.

"Yes, ma'am," he said, then opened the door.

"You know, there's a button for that." Bella indicated the rectangular button on the wall—the one with the wheelchair sign.

"True, but why waste electricity?" _Ah-ha, got you there, _he wanted to boast but didn't. Instead, Carlisle held the door open until she was through. Then, matching her pace, he walked alongside her until they had reached her room.

"Here. Let me help you." The words had barely left his mouth, and he was already helping her out of her coat. Carlisle hadn't really thought about it. He'd just done it. Bella seemed rather taken aback again. But she was laughing, too.

As he hung the coat inside her open locker, she beheld him with amusement. "Who said chivalry was dead?"

Since she was physically able to move around by herself, he refrained from helping her into bed. He stayed close, though. Just in case.

Her movements were slow and cautious. Because she was still sore, he saw her wince a few times. Once Bella was settled, Carlisle pointed his thumb over his shoulder. "I suppose I should go."

He was nearly at the threshold when she called after him. "Dr. Cullen?" A pause ensued. "Can I ask you something?"

Curious, he turned to face her. "Sure."

"How'd you find me anyway? Out there, by the highway. My car wasn't visible from the road."

Carlisle had to swallow his rising panic. True, he didn't know her very well, but if Bella Swan was anything like her father, she was no fool. There was a swift intelligence behind her eyes. The wheels of her mind were clearly turning right now. Would she even buy his hiking story?

Unwilling to chance it, Carlisle took a step back. Desperate to protect his secret—that he had been running about the woods, glutting himself on deer blood—he schooled his features into what he hoped was an easy smile. "A lucky twist of fate, I guess."

Bella's confusion intensified, her smile fading only slightly when she said, "Wait, that's your answer? That's all I'm getting?" Amused but undeterred, she opened her mouth to say more, but his beeper sounded just then, saving his proverbial ass, at least for now.

Looking down at his pager, Carlisle apologized. "You'll have to forgive me. Duty calls." Before he went, however, he looked to her one last time, his voice soft and earnest when he said. "Good night, Isabella."

To his relief, her features softened, too. "Good night, Dr. Cullen."


	5. Chapter 5 - Memories and Mysteries

**Apologies for the delay, guys. Real life got in the way for a while.**

**As always, I want to thank all who have been reading and following this story. To those who left comments on chapter 4 (****Ruiniel, Goldielover, leelee202, Synphonia, Nissa-Cullen, Guest, darkangelfantasy, and Bookwormkat1) THANK YOU!**

* * *

**CHAPTER 5**

**MEMORIES AND MYSTERIES**

Charlie's living-room had changed very little over the years. Except for the recliner, that he'd purchased when the old one had broken, the furniture was the same as the early 2000s. So were the beige and brown drapes that adorned the windows on either side of the brick fireplace. Just like in years past, the white mantel held a row of family pictures. And the walls—though recently repainted—were the same greyish blue.

Evidently, Charlie wasn't one for change. But then, Bella didn't mind. If anything, it was comforting. _Like a moment frozen in time_, she mused as her gaze flitted to the model ship above the fireplace.

Sitting on the couch, with her legs curled beneath her, Bella adjusted the woolen throw on her lap, then returned to the book she had been reading. A book she had inadvertently left behind when she had gone to university.

"_Hey, isn't this yours?_" Charlie had asked her the other night, after digging through a box he had found next to some old case files up in the attic.

"_Oh, wow. Yeah_," she had replied, a smile spreading across her face as he had brought the book to her bedside. "_I thought I'd lost it_."

Her paperback copy of Chaucer's Troilus and Criseyde had seen better days, it was true. The corners were dog-eared, and the paper had yellowed with age. But the pages were all there. To this day, the long poem, composed using rime royale, remained a favorite of hers.

As Bella re-read the familiar words, she was only vaguely aware of the fishing show Charlie was watching on his flat screen.

It was a quarter to four. October 15th. Bella had been out of the hospital for over a week now. While she was still sore from the accident and her subsequent surgery, she had made great strides since her car had toppled down that wooded slope, nearly three weeks ago.

Within limits, she could walk around with a lot more ease now. Two days ago, on a rare sunny day, she had even braved a ten minute walk outside.

Today wasn't a good day for a stroll, though. The wind was howling, and it was pretty cold outside. But that wasn't to say she had been idle all day. Though Bella had been following her doctor's orders, and was taking it easy, she had helped Charlie prep a meal earlier, her first cooking endeavor since the accident.

Oh, it wasn't a complicated meal—oven roasted chicken with a side of carrots and mashed potatoes—but both she and Charlie liked it. So did Jacob and his father, Billy, who would be joining them for dinner shortly. Because Sundays were synonymous with Sunday Night Football, Charlie and Billy planned to watch the game together, a tradition they had maintained for a number of years now.

With a glance at her watch, Bella felt it was time to check on the chicken in the oven. When she made to rise, however, Charlie guessed her intentions and gained his feet with a grunt. "It's alright, Bella. You rest up. I'm gonna check on dinner."

"You do realize I'm not bedridden. I can walk to the kitchen and back."

Her father leveled a look at her. "Dr. Coleman said no lifting, remember? That roaster isn't exactly light."

Knowing a lost battle when she saw one, Bella accepted defeat with a half smile and a subtle roll of her eyes.

"Need anything in the kitchen?" Charlie asked as he rounded the couch.

"It's alright. I'm good."

As her father left the room, Bella set her book aside, and glanced out the window. The autumn wind seemed even stronger now. She could hear it against the house, see it in the swaying branches outside.

By the time Charlie returned, saying the food would be ready in another ten minutes or so, Bella was firing off a text to Audrey. Just to say hi and see how she was.

Moments later, her friend's reply showed up on the screen. _I'm doing good. Babysitting Cora today_.

Bella smiled. Cora was Audrey's niece. A sweet and precocious five year old with a toothless smile and curly red hair.

_We're going to Build-A-Bear, _Audrey explained_. Call you later tonight?_

_Sure thing_, Bella wrote back. _Talk to you tonight_. In fact, it was their nightly ritual. She and Audrey always touched bases at the end of the day. _Have fun! And say hi to the little munchkin for me._

A soft _crack_ and a fizzing sound echoed in the room, and she looked up to see that Charlie had popped a tab on his beer. As her father watched his fishing show, Bella settled into a prolonged silence.

That was the thing with Charlie; just like her, he didn't mind long wordless pauses. Their silences were comfortable, companionable. They allowed her to think.

Thinking… It was something she had been doing a lot of lately. Thinking and debating and weighing her future. Though she was leaning toward ending things with Evan, and moving on with her life, neither of them had gone ahead and taken that decisive step. Except for a few texts and phone calls, the two were taking time for themselves, to evaluate what they wanted out of life, debating if they should spend it together. It was like a part of them was readying for their parting, while another part was reluctant to let go. Walking away after three years—two of them amazingly good—was far from easy. Especially when Bella's mind held to the happier memories, how things used to be. The love and laughter, those crazy, breathtaking moments they had spent together. The life she had once dreamed of living with him.

As Charlie's fishing show went to commercial, Bella looked to her phone again, navigating until she reached Evan's facebook page. With a swipe of her finger, she brought up a picture from his office Christmas party. In it, they were sitting side by side at a table, their cheerful gazes entwined. It'd been a fun night. But it'd been a turning point, too, for their relationship had changed shortly after that. With a heavy heart, Bella stared at the image until an incoming text drew her attention.

It was Evan.

_I didn't hear from you last night. Can we talk? By text or on the phone, whatever you prefer. I just need to hear from you, Bella_.

Sadness and conflict churned in her being. Reading his text, knowing he wanted to talk to her… it was hard not to miss him. _But that's the pattern, isn't it? _Evan could be sweet an attentive one day, distracted, evasive, or altogether absent the next. And then there was the fighting, and the nagging question at the back of her mind—where did he go all those late nights he wasn't home?

Bella kept staring at her phone screen, indecision gnawing at her. Thinking Evan deserved an answer to his text, she typed a response, explaining that Jacob and his dad were coming over for dinner. _Can I call you around 8?_

A moment later, he wrote back. _That works._ _Talk to you tonight. _

Another moment went by. Then Evan wrote once more._ I miss you._

Her heart twisted in her chest.

"You're staring hard at that phone." Charlie's voice made her look away from those three little words.

Bella blinked a few times, then tucked her phone in the pocket of her cardigan. "Was I? Sorry."

Having spent the better part of the week in pajamas, she had opted to wear actual clothes today. A comfy combination consisting of a t-shirt, leggings, and a thick pair of socks. As for the gray cardigan, it was soft and slightly oversized, a favorite of hers. Wrapping the garment more tightly around herself, she looked to the fire in the fireplace.

"You okay?" her father asked.

"Yeah, I'm fine." She even gave a small smile.

When Charlie pursed his lips, she could tell he wasn't buying it. Not entirely. While he wasn't one to pry, her old man was good at reading people. A seasoned cop, he could usually smell bullshit from a mile away.

When Bella failed to say anything else, Charlie scratched the underside of his jaw. "I know we don't usually talk about this kind of stuff, but I can tell that things haven't been"—he paused, searching for the words—"exactly good between you and Evan."

Her gaze fell to her lap for a beat, then two. Since there was little point in denying it, she raised her eyes back to his, and said, shyly, "That obvious, huh?"

"I'm not blind, Bella. He's not here. And you never talk about him." Now he set his beer down, and indicated her hand. "But even more telling is the ring you no longer wear on your finger."

She should have known he would notice that.

Not wanting to lie to him, Bella heaved a sigh, and shrugged. "I don't know how it happened, or why, but Evan and I… It isn't working. Things haven't been right between us for a few months now. I don't know if we'll be able to fix it. If we even should." Sinking into her thoughts, she picked at a hangnail, then huffed a dejected laugh. "Breakups, right?" _At least I'm pretty sure we're breaking up. _

"I get it. Believe me, I get it. I've been there. Sorta," Charlie added, for his past experience differed from hers. For one, Bella's mother had left him with little to no warning. As if that wasn't jarring enough, Renée had left Forks altogether, and taken three month old Bella with her.

"Bottom line is your mother wasn't happy here. And though it took a long time for me to accept it, I can admit that it was probably for the best. That it wouldn't have done either of us any good if she would have stayed."

As Bella absorbed the meaning behind his words, Charlie's gaze went to the row of pictures on the mantel. First, his eyes settled on his wedding picture—a spur of the moment wedding in Vegas. A melancholic smile tugging at the corner of his mouth, he then looked to a picture of the three of them, that a helpful nurse had taken after Bella's birth at the hospital.

Charlie had never been one to bare his pain. Instead, he usually kept it hidden behind his rugged, no-nonsense exterior.

Now, his pain seeped at the edges, conveying what she already knew. Even after all these years, her father had never stopped loving her mother. Her death had hit him pretty hard.

Setting the painful past aside, Charlie promptly gathered himself, and looked to Bella again. "Sometimes you gotta learn how to recognize what isn't good for you," he told her, his mouth quirking a little when he added, "Hey, but what do I know. I'm a terminal bachelor."

Bella's answering smile was genuine. "Famous ladies' man, huh?"

"You know it."

The levity of the moment stretched on. When it faded, Charlie said, "Whatever happens, whether you two stay together or not… I just want you to be happy, Bells."

A loud honk echoed from the outside, making them look toward the entrance.

"Must be Jake and his dad," Charlie said and rose.

By the time Bella made it to the front door, Jacob was already helping his father out of the truck. Confined to a wheelchair due to complications from Diabetes, Billy was Charlie's best friend. A kind man with a white smile and russet skin, he was bundled in a woolen jacket, a black cowboy hat on his head. Except for the gray streaks in his black hair, the man hadn't changed much over the years.

Once Billy was in his chair, Charlie went to meet him. With Jacob's help, he carried his chair up the front steps.

As soon as Jacob caught sight of Bella, a full smile spread across his dimpled cheeks. "Hey! You've cut your hair," he exclaimed, noting her shoulder-length do.

For the longest time, Bella had worn her hair in long, cascading layers that fell all the way to her shoulder blades. But having grown tired of the style, she now sported a slightly shorter do, with choppy layers styled in messy, uneven waves.

"Uh, so did you!" she replied, scarcely believing her eyes. "When did you do this?" The last time Bella had seen Jacob, his black hair had been well past his shoulders, just like his dad. Now his shiny locks were cropped short.

"About a year ago," he said by way of answer. "Long time no see, Bell." His hug was gentle but heartfelt.

"It's good to see you, Jake." It really was. Drawing away from him, Bella looked to her hands, which were now mapping his shoulders. "Wow, you're like… buff." Because he had forgone wearing a jacket, opting instead for a simple black t-shirt, the change in his physique was quite noticeable. "What'd you do? Join a gym or something?" Physical appearance aside, she wondered if he'd turned into a furnace as well. Despite the glacial bite in the air, he certainly didn't look cold. In fact, when she'd hugged him just now, he had felt the opposite of cold. If not for the fact that he looked cheerful, healthy, and strong, she would have thought he was running a fever or something. Jacob seemed fine, though.

"No gym, no." His boyish grin was as charming as ever. "Just good genetics."

Pointing to his t-shirt, Bella had to ask. "Did they run out of coats in La Push? I'm cold just looking at you."

As she wrapped her arms around herself, Jacob only laughed.

Then his father spoke. "You're looking well, Bella. Happy to see you on your feet."

"Well, it's great to see you guys. It's been a while." In truth, she hadn't seen them at all since her return to Forks. Much to her surprise, they hadn't even come by the hospital to see her.

Disappointing? Sure. But between her and her father, it seemed Charlie had been most bothered by their absence. She'd seen it on his face. Luckily, her father wasn't one to hold a grudge, at least not against the Blacks. And neither was she.

While Bella had spent most of her childhood in California and Arizona, she'd spent many summers here in Forks. Because Charlie and Billy often fished on weekends, she had spent quite a bit of time with Jacob over the years.

One of her fondest childhood memories was of the two of them building mud pies together. But then, when she had moved here at the age of seventeen—so her mother could go on the road with her husband, Phil, during baseball season—Bella had formed an even closer friendship with Jacob.

Because they had gone to different high schools, they'd hung out mostly on weekends. Going to the beach. Hanging out in his garage, listening to music and tinkering with stuff. In the summer before senior year, the two had even dated. A puppy love romance that never really took off, mostly because for Bella it had never felt right. After a few movie dates, she had realized they made more sense as friends. And though he'd been somewhat crushed at first, Jacob had moved past it in the end. And now here they were. Friends who could pick up where they left off, no matter how much time went by between their visits.

"I'm sorry we didn't go see you in the hospital." Tucking his hands in his pockets, Jacob regarded her with a look of guilt. "We came by the house earlier in the week, but Charlie was out, and we thought you might be sleeping."

"Oh." She hadn't known. "Well next time, you call or ring the doorbell, alright?"

Jacob gave a nod, then they both smiled.

"Deal."

"It's pretty windy today," Charlie broke in, his shoulders hunched against the cold. "How about we take this inside?"

"No argument from me," Billy said.

"Hope you're hungry. I think we made too much food."

"Uh-uh. There's no such thing as too much food," Jacob said.

"That's true." Billy laughed as he wheeled himself through the open doorway. "Jake's as bad as a teenager. Good thing he pays for his own groceries now."

* * *

"So I drove by the auto repair shop and finally saw your car." Jacob chuckled as he helped himself to a second serving of mashed potatoes. "You did quite a number on it."

The four were gathered in Charlie's dining room, where the meal had been laid out in serving dishes in the middle of the table. Connected to the kitchen via a doorway, the space also opened onto the living-room, where the television was playing, but on mute.

"Correction. I didn't do anything to my car," Bella said, then passed the salt to her father. "The bear and that slope did all the work."

"There are a lot of animals in that area," Billy offered in between bites. "They're hard to see, especially at night."

"That's what I told her," Charlie said, then leveled a teasing glance at her. "But did she listen to her old man? Nope."

Bella snorted and rolled her eyes.

"So, what are you gonna do with it?" Jacob asked her. "Your car, I mean. You gonna get it fixed?"

"I'd like to, but it's not exactly new. I'm not sure it'd be cost effective."

"How's the mileage on it?"

"It's getting up there," she admitted, then shrugged. "I had planned on buying a new one next spring anyway. I guess I'll just be hitting the dealerships a few months earlier than planned."

"Well if the car is bound for the junkyard, mind if I take a look at it?"

"You want to fix it?" Bella exchanged a glance with Charlie. Partly amused and partly puzzled, she said, "It's a mess, Jake."

He seemed undeterred. "You forget, I have mad skills when it comes to cars." Reaching for a paper napkin, Jacob wiped his smirking mouth. "Look, if you're worried about costs, don't. I have a few junkers out in the backyard. I'm sure I could find some decent replacement parts. It'd be a weekend project kind of thing. For fun, you know?" His brown eyes twinkled as if to say, "_Come on, say yes_."

Bella smiled in confusion. "Explain to me why you paint houses for a living? You'd be a kickass mechanic." Just like his dad.

In fact, it was Billy who had fixed the old Chevy truck that had served as Bella's mode of transportation during her high school years. And by old, she meant _old_. The truck—or _the Thing_, as she had come to call it—had been nearly fifty years old when Charlie had purchased it from Billy.

Deemed a death trap by some, Bella had loved that truck. Sadly, it had conked out and died during her senior year in high school.

"Simple," Jacob answered. "When it's a job, it's not as fun anymore."

Okay, so he had a point.

"I like tinkering with engines on the weekends," he went on to explain. "It relaxes me. So what do you say? You gonna let me play with your car or not?" When Bella narrowed her eyes in feigned deliberation, he sweetened the pot by saying, "Just think, if I can get it back into shape, you can do whatever you want with it. Drive or sell it. Make a few extra bucks. It's a win-win." Now he just looked smug.

_Cocky little bastard_, she thought and bit back a laugh. Man, she'd missed him. Missed the easygoing nature of their friendship. "Sure. Fine. Knock yourself out."

His smile broadened, showing perfect teeth. "Great! You won't regret it."

Later, after Charlie and Billy had moved to the living-room to watch the game, Bella lingered at the table with Jacob, where the two were enjoying the last of the apple pie.

"So where's Evan?" Jacob asked between bites. "Been a while since I've seen him."

"He was here for a few days, but I told him to go home." Seeing the question in her friend's eyes, she explained that he had to work. "Life doesn't stop just because my car went off the road."

Jacob studied her for a beat longer than she liked. "Uh-oh."

Shit. He knew.

Ill-at-ease, Bella feigned ignorance. "Uh-oh, what?"

"You might think you're hard to read, but you're not. Not to me anyway. I gather there's trouble in paradise?" It felt more like a statement than a question.

Bella made no reply. Instead, she speared the last morsel of pie, and moved it around her plate.

"I'll take that to be a yes." His tone had softened, his earlier smugness gone.

Seeing that he wouldn't let this go, Bella relented, "Okay. Fine. We're going through some stuff. But I don't feel like talking about it."

At first, she thought he might push to know more. But then, to her surprise, he let it go. "Okay."

Seconds went by. The televised football game played in the background. "Come on, Seahawks," Bella heard her father say.

A smirk finding light on her lips, she turned the tables on Jacob. "Speaking of trouble in paradise, Charlie tells me you're enjoying the single life again. What happened anyway? I thought you and Jenna were pretty solid."

"We were. But you know how things go. After a while, I started getting on _her_ nerves. She started getting on _my_ nerves." His mouth quirked, then he laughed. "It was a disaster. We're better off." Now he waved a hand, and reached for his Coca-Cola. "Besides I've been rather busy lately. I don't exactly have time for love right now."

This piqued her interest. "Oh? What have you been up to?"

"Just stuff around the reservation. Things relating to the tribe." Though his mood was pretty laid-back, Bella sensed he was eager to change the subject, a suspicion that came full circle when he indicated the small scar above her brow. "I hear you were pretty banged up." Oh no. Not the accident again. "Charlie told us how close it was." A look of concern crossed his features. Softly, he said, "I'm glad you're okay, Bella."

A blush of embarrassment crept on her cheeks. Irritated by the incessant fussing, Bella thought she might as well get the topic out of the way.

"It wasn't exactly a walk in the park, but I made it. I'm still here." Sitting here now, Bella thought back on the accident. After her car had toppled down that slope, she'd been pretty out of it. But while she'd drifted in and out of consciousness, Bella remembered enough to know it'd been a very long and very cold night. "Sometimes, I still can't believe Dr. Cullen found me when he did." The fact that he was even there at all boggled the mind.

"Dr. Cullen," Jacob echoed. "As in Carlisle Cullen?"

Bella narrowed her eyes in confusion, for Jacob's easygoing mood had done a complete one-eighty. He seemed tense all of a sudden, alarmed, a deep frown marring his forehead.

"Carlisle Cullen, yeah," she replied, not quite following. "He was hiking in the area when he found me." At least, that's what Charlie had heard. When she'd spoken to Dr. Cullen last week, asking how he had found her, the blond physician had been rather evasive, his features warm but slightly strained when he had said, "_A lucky twist of fate, I guess_."

In the present, Jacob sat back in his chair, his lips pursed in a brooding manner as he looked away. Before she could ask him what was wrong, he pinched the bridge of his nose, and gave a wry chuckle. "Hiking, right." Now he was shaking his head.

_Huh?_

Flat-out confused, Bella opened her mouth, then closed it again. At length, she said, "Um… did I miss something?"

In lieu of answering, Jacob pointed to her mostly empty plate. "Are you done with that?"

When he rose and reached across the table, Bella moved her plate so he couldn't reach it. "Forget the dishes. I want to know what happened just now. I mentioned Dr. Cullen and you went all weird."

As the sound of a cheering crowd drifted from the television in the other room, Bella barely registered her father's enthusiastic, "Yes! Touchdown!"

"That was one heck of a play!" Billy exclaimed in turn, oblivious to the puzzling tension in the dining-room.

Paying no mind to the celebratory ruckus, Bella kept staring at her childhood friend.

The muscles of his jaw flexed for second. But then, to convince her, Jacob relaxed a little, or pretended to. He even faked a smile. "Never mind. It's not important." With that, he leaned far enough to grab her plate. After placing the dishes in the kitchen sink, Jacob returned and nudged his chin toward the living-room. "Looks like an exciting game. What do you say we catch the end of it?"

Recognizing a brick wall when she saw one, Bella abandoned her previous query. At least for now.

Later that evening, after the Seahawks had claimed victory, and Jacob and Billy were pulling out of the driveway, she remained in the open doorway, a question sticking at the back of her mind.

"Something wrong, Bells?" Charlie asked when she finally lost sight of them and closed the door.

He was already at the kitchen sink, filling it with hot, soapy water.

"I don't know," she answered, genuinely confused. Passing by the staircase, Bella crossed their small entryway, and entered the kitchen with its white cabinets and pale blue walls. "Just a conversation I had with Jacob. It was… I don't know. Weird."

"In what way?"

Rather tired from her day, Bella shuffled toward their small breakfast table, pulled one of the mismatched chairs, and plopped down into it. Ignoring her lingering aches and pains, she said, "We were talking about the accident, and when I mentioned Dr. Cullen, he got all serious and tense all of a sudden, and wouldn't explain why. I mean, the change in his mood was immediate. You couldn't miss it. I got the feeling that he _really _doesn't like him."

When Charlie hung his head, his hand rising to rub the back of his neck, Bella gathered that he was irritated but unsurprised. "You know, I wish they would just give the guy a chance. This town is damned lucky to have a physician like Dr. Cullen."

"Wait, you mean Billy has a problem with him, too? Why?"

True she might not know him very well, but aside from a few oddities, Dr. Cullen seemed nice. Kind.

"To be honest, I hardly understand it myself. I asked them about it once, when the two of them made a fuss about Dr. Cullen working at the hospital."

"Wait, is that why they didn't visit me?"

"It's a pretty crummy reason, but yeah. The Quileutes… they're boycotting the hospital."

As Charlie grabbed a dishrag, Bella's mouth fell open. "Because of Dr. Cullen," she echoed aloud. "You're joking."

"Seems pretty stupid, I know. Look, don't get me wrong. Billy and Jacob, they're family to me. But the hostility they feel towards the guy… it doesn't make sense to me. In fact, the whole reservation's up in arms about Dr. Cullen working here in town."

"Why?"

"I wish I knew. They were always pretty vague about it. Something about an old feud between the Quileutes and someone in Dr. Cullen's family tree. Early twentieth century stuff."

"So something happened a century ago, and now they want nothing to do with Dr. Cullen?"

"That's the gist of it." The water in the sink had risen, and the sides were nearly overflowing with suds. Shutting off the water, Charlie rolled up the sleeves of his plaid shirt, and started washing the dishes. "If you ask me, the tribe's not exactly being fair. And they're not the only ones. Some of the folks around here aren't giving him much of a chance either. Just because he's a newcomer. I really don't get it. Dr. Cullen's been nothing but nice."

Though his voice was level, aggravation rolled off of him in waves. "Let's face it, Forks isn't the kind of place that attracts new physicians, especially talented ones. He might be fresh out of residency, but from what I hear, the guy's one heck of a surgeon already. To have him working here, in our Podunk hospital? People should be happy." Having washed one plate, he rinsed it and set it in the drying rack. "Folks around here should think about the people he's helped. People he's saved. More gratitude. Less closed-mindedness."

Bella tried to wrap her brain around it. At a loss for words, she settled for, "Jeez… Small towns, right?" When she rose to fetch a drying cloth from a nearby drawer, Charlie's demeanor softened, and he told her to leave it.

"You've had a long day. You should get some rest."

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah, I got this." He gave a lopsided smile and jerked his chin toward the staircase in the entryway. "Now scoot."

A chuckle as her response, Bella set the drying cloth on the counter. "Fine. I'm going. Good night, dad."

"Night, kid."

After she had brushed her teeth, and changed into her pajamas, Bella padded into her bedroom and grabbed her cell phone which she'd previously placed on the old pine dresser by the door. While the house was largely unchanged, Bella's former bedroom was much emptier than it used to be. For instance, the shelves were mostly bare. And the corkboard, which had once held drawings, pictures, posters, and articles, was now entirely barren.

Because she had yet to turn on the bedside lamp, the room was lit solely by the white string-lights that were strewn across the blue-green walls. Smiling at the fact that Charlie had hung them back up for her, Bella climbed into bed, and checked the time. "Eight o'clock," she murmured to herself. Time to call Evan.

Her heart mired in conflict, Bella dialed her home number, and pressed the call button.

The phone rang once, twice, then a third time. When the answering machine clicked on, Bella gave up with a sigh, and dialed Evan's cell phone instead. Again, no answer. Unsurprised, she huffed a mirthless laugh, and closed her eyes.

_I should have known. _It was always the same story with him.

When her phone rang a second later, she thought he might have just missed her call and was calling back. But a glance at the screen revealed it wasn't him.

_Fine by me._

Her annoyance ceding to genuine delight, Bella answered. "Hey, Audrey. How was Build-A-Bear?"

Her friend's laughter drifted over the line. "_I don't know who had more fun. Me or Cora_." Bella could easily envision that.

"How is the little munchkin?"

"_Good. Full of energy_. _Did you have a good day?_"

"Yeah, it was alright."

Something in her voice must have tipped her off because Audrey's cheerfulness turned to concern. "_Oh no. What happened?_"

"Guess."

"_Evan_." Audrey gave a loud sigh.

Her finger tracing the purple designs on her blanket, Bella told her about the text he had sent her, including the "_I miss you_" part.

"_What'd he say when you finally called him?_"

"That's just it. We'd planned to talk at eight. I called the apartment and he wasn't there. Then I tried his cell, and he didn't answer. He always does this. We make plans. He lets me down. Most of the time, he says it's work. But this is a Sunday night. I don't know what to think anymore." Exhausted, both physically and mentally, Bella rubbed her right eye with the heel of her hand. _God, I feel like an idiot. Why am I putting up with this?_

"_Do you want my opinion?_"

"By all means, fire away."

"_Like you, I don't know if he's cheating or not. But even if he isn't… neither of you seem happy." _Her friend heaved a long breath over the phone, her voice soft and compassionate when she prodded, "_Are you? Are you happy, Bella?_"

A moment of silence ensued. Bella's head thudded against the headboard as she sat back. "No." A short answer, and a truthful one.

"_I would never tell you how to live your life. But if it were me… Look, we might have hit the big 3-0, but we're not fossils. You're still young. You could start fresh. Find your spark again. Who knows, there might be another Mister Right out there. The real Mister Right. A man who'll worship you, and won't make you wonder at every turn. Someone who's worthy of trust, who'll make your toes curl up, and take your breath away. A real hottie like_—"

Bella laughed—a full belly laugh that tapered to a series of tired but earnest chuckles. _Leave it to Audrey. _Despite being single herself, her friend was a hopeless romantic. "I'm not technically broken up yet, and you're talking about me dating?" With a shake of her head, Bella dragged a hand down her smiling face. "Yeah, I'm not ready for that yet." But being single? Honestly, it didn't sound half bad right now.

Was it time, though? Was she ready to walk away from Evan?

_We were happy once, _one half of her heart whispered, while the other half doubted things could ever be the same, even if they tried.

After she and Audrey had said good night, Bella found she couldn't sleep. She was annoyed, angry at Evan _and_ herself. _What are you doing, Bella? You deserve better than this. _

When the numbers on the alarm clock changed from _8:55_ to _8:56_, her cell phone vibrated, then a ringtone broke the stillness.

Frowning, she reached for her cell, and saw that it was Evan. Several thundering heartbeats later, she answered, but said nothing.

"_Shit, Bella, I'm sorry_." Those were his greeting words. "_Mom asked me over for dinner, and I lost track of time." _Evan loosed a breath then, like he was mentally kicking himself. City traffic could be heard in the background. Passing cars and the occasional honk. _"I would have answered, but I forgot my phone was set to silent. I'm an idiot._"

Unsure of what to say or think, she said, "You wanted me to call earlier. I called."

"_I know I messed up. I let you down. Again. But I really did want to talk to you, Bella. I meant it when I said I missed you."_

"I'm really tired, Evan. This was a long day, and quite frankly, I just want to sleep right now."

_"Okay... Okay," _he murmured._ "I'll let you get you some rest, but we'll talk in the morning_." There was a pause, as if something had netted his attention. "_I gotta go."_

Her eyes burned, her voice a mere breath when she said, "Okay."

_"Good night, Bella. __Tomorrow_," he promised again, and ended the call…

…or so he thought.

The city sounds became muffled. His phone was likely in his pocket.

"_Evan?_" It was a woman, her voice just loud enough to hear through the fabric. "_What are you doing outside? Our table's ready_."

"_Sorry, babe. I had to take a call_."

Bella's stomach dropped.

Babe. He'd called her babe.

The clicking of heels on pavement carried over the line. Then the woman spoke again. "_That was Bella, wasn't it?_" Her tone seemed mostly resigned.

When Evan didn't answer, she said, "_Let me guess._ _You still haven't told her about us._" The woman sounded more hurt than angry.

"_Amber, you gotta give me some slack here. I've been with her for _three _years. She was in a car wreck. She's still healing from surgery_."

Bella heard the words, but her attention snagged on the name. Amber. Amber Emmerson. Bella had met her the week before Christmas, at Evan's office party. An attractive woman with light brown hair and a perfect smile. She'd been working with Evan for close to a year now.

"_I know you said you're just waiting for the right time_," Amber went on to say. "_But sometimes I wonder if the reason you're waiting is because you don't know what you want. I know we fell into this unexpectedly, that neither of us planned this, but I never wanted to be the other woman_. _To come in second. It's not.._. _It's not what I envisioned for myself._"

"_Come on, you know you're more than that_." The emotion in his voice... Like he genuinely cared about her. Maybe even loved her.

"_Then prove it. Sneaking around, it's not my thing anymore. Honestly, it never was. I'm done with it." _Amber's voice cracked. _"You're going to have to choose. It's her or me_."

Bella couldn't stand hearing any more. She had heard enough.

Ending the call, she remained where she was, her knees pulled toward her body, her back resting against the headboard.

She had gotten what she wanted. She'd gotten her answer.

_I knew it. _

Her eyes had fallen shut.

_I knew it, I knew it, I knew it._

Her hand rose to her aching chest, her palm pressing against her heart.

Shit. Why was it so hard to breathe?

Over the past few weeks, Bella had tried to convince herself that she was braced for this, that the moment of truth would hurt less because she had seen it coming.

She'd been wrong.

Now the woman's word came back to her. "_You're going to have to choose_," she had told Evan.

"No," Bella whispered in the dark. Eyes closed, she shook her head in absolute refusal. He wouldn't get to make that choice. Because the choice was already made. She had made it.

Evan had lied to her face just now. Clearly not for the first time. _Dinner with his mother. What a joke._

He was seeing another woman. And yet, he was seemingly incapable of letting Bella go.

_You can't have both. _

As the wind buffeted the window, her teeth caught her lower lip.

_You can't have me. _

Nothing he could ever say or do would make her change her mind on this. It was over. They were done.

Evan didn't deserve her. He never did.

* * *

**So here was chapter 5. Sorry Carlisle wasn't in it. Fear not, though. He'll definitely be in the next one. ;-)**


	6. Chapter 6 - A Break in the Shadows

**As always, thanks go out to all my readers, and all those who favorited or are following the story. To the awesome peeps who left reviews on the last chapter (Ruiniel, UnderlinedSmile, Guest, leelee202, Goldielover, and Eris Moonsong) thank you! I appreciate your reviews like you wouldn't believe.**

**For those who like to listen to music while reading, I recommend the song "Heaven Up there" by Palace. The words and melody inspired me greatly as I wrote this chapter. I must have listened to it a hundred times.**

**From the song…**

_When the night is gone_

_And the shadows clear_

_When I hear my song_

_Will the grave be near?_

_See what you want_

_..._

_But I'm the rising tide_

_I'm no force of God_

_I'm a thousand lies_

_I take what I want_

_Cause I'm the frightening sky_

_I'm a selfish man_

_Designed to die_

_..._

_But is it heaven up there?_

_Is it heaven up there?_

_Is it heaven up there?_

_Cause it's hell down here_

_..._

_Believe in existence spent_

_To separate us from them_

_To know that your blood runs thin_

_Is to live with the truth within_

_So scrape up the bruise I wear_

_..._

_Eradicate all my fears_

_Prepare me to walk these stairs_

_I don't know what my future is_

_I don't know what my future is_

* * *

**CHAPTER 6**

**A BREAK IN THE SHADOWS**

He returned from his hunt just as the sun broke over the horizon, spilling warm light between the property's towering cedars.

Because the clouds had cleared shortly after midnight, and the wind had finally died down, the temperature had reached its dewpoint, and the undergrowth was now covered in sparkling dew.

Approaching the ancient oak that grew near the back of the house, Carlisle scaled the trunk like a spider would climb a wall. Once he had reached the crown, he stood to full height, and followed a mossy limb toward one of the many balconies overlooking his backyard.

Larger than all the others, the sheltered space held a breakfast table and a few potted shrubs. Because the surrounding evergreens obstructed much of the sun, the patio furniture was currently bathed in both shadow and light.

As he walked along the tree limb, the wood creaked beneath his feet, the sound blending with the gurgling rush of the Calawah River. Going as far as the branch would allow, Carlisle dropped to the balcony with a soft _thud, _but did not go inside right away.

Despite being satisfied from his recent feeding—well, as satisfied as one could be on a "vegetarian" diet—Carlisle felt oddly restless this morning.

Fingertips drumming on the side of his thigh, he came to stand by the redwood railing, where he drew a heavy breath. Like always, the air was redolent with the many scents of nature, yet today he couldn't help but find it lacking.

Her scent. Carlisle couldn't smell it anymore. Not on his jacket. Not even in the hospital corridor where her room had been located. Like a ship passing in the night, Isabella Swan had already come and gone from his life. And yet here he was, haunted by thoughts of her.

Clearly, he needed a distraction, some way to remove her from his mind. But because this was a sunny morning, he couldn't even go to work today. For even in dappled light, his refractive skin betrayed his otherness, the fact that he was definitely not human. Just looking at his hand, the effect was unmistakable. Soft sparkles, akin to diamond dust.

Though pleasing to look at, the sight would be highly baffling, if not terrifying to humans who had no idea his kind even existed.

It was bad enough that half the townsfolk were already afraid of him—a reaction born out of self-preserving instinct rather than actual knowing. If people were to see him now, they would know he wasn't normal, that he was different. If such a scenario ever came to be, he and Rosalie would have to drop everything and leave. And if, by some dreadful turn of luck, humans ever discovered the full secret—that vampires were real, and he was one of them—he and Rosalie would have to find a really good hiding place indeed. For there were rules about such things, and their lives would be forfeit.

Granted, vampires did not have very many laws, but the law of secrecy was the one rule they _all _had to abide by.

In an age where human technology posed an actual threat to their kind, the existence of vampires had to remain a secret.

For those who were stupid enough, or reckless enough, to break that law, the price was dreadfully high. The highest they could pay even. If Carlisle were to reveal his true nature—whether by accident or not—and the Volturi somehow found out, the sentence could be death, not only for him, but for Rosalie as well. Maybe even Edward, for though he was not currently living with them, he was still considered part of Carlisle's coven. Unlikely as it seemed, the Volturi could find him guilty by association.

As if that wasn't bad enough, humans who learned the truth could be in danger as well, for the Volturi might consider them a threat. And in their eyes, threats had to be eliminated, no exceptions. For most, this meant a swift death. The rest might be given the option to be changed, but that was a rare thing indeed. Either way, their human lives would end.

With all that in mind, Carlisle exercised caution, always. He avoided town on sunny days. And when he moved among humans, he did his best to blend in. At work, he took care to move at human speeds; he remembered to blink and breathe. There were other things as well. Other precautionary habits, such as fake bathroom breaks, and the occasional meal or drink, that he would have to purge afterward.

But even with all that, chief among all those things was the need to avoid close friendships with those who were not of his kind. As a doctor, Carlisle could treat humans. He could work alongside them. He could walk around town, doing normal human things for appearances' sake, but nothing more than that. Never more than that.

Resigned to this disheartening reality, he was leaning against the railing when another memory flashed in his mind. That of a candy bar and chocolate brown eyes. Of chamomile tea and a grateful, if timid, smile.

_Stop_, he chastised himself, casting Isabella Swan from his mind for the umpteenth time this week. _You can't keep doing this. _

It didn't matter that he'd enjoyed talking to her the other night. It didn't matter that he loved the sound of her voice, and how relaxed she had been around him. Isabella was not a vampire. She was a human, and a former patient. He had no business thinking of her in this fashion. Most of all, he shouldn't be yearning to see her again.

_Maybe she's still at Charlie's, _he mused as a bird flew overhead_. Or then maybe she went home to Seattle_.

Another breath, another thought, and his chest tightened.

Most likely she was with_ him._ The guy he had seen at her bedside. A love interest for sure.

_Why are you even bothered by this? You barely know her!_

More importantly, he couldn't seek her out to learn more about her. It would be inappropriate, and most selfish of him. Not to mention risky, for both of them.

Hoping to gather himself before entering his home, Carlisle raked a frustrated hand through his hair.

His lingering fascination puzzled and troubled him. He wasn't usually like this. But then, it wasn't everyday that one stumbled onto his or her singer. And because such encounters usually ended in a fatal feast, it wasn't like he had a reference point, something to compare it to. Isabella Swan might be his singer, but he had resisted.

Only now she lingered in his thoughts. Memories such as the way she had smiled at him, her eyes as soft as her voice when she had said, "_Good night, Dr. Cullen_."

Carlisle closed his eyes.

_It doesn't matter, it doesn't matter, it doesn't matter. _

It shouldn't matter.

_Think of something else. Do something else._

To that end, he schooled his features, made for the French doors, and entered the house, where he found his remaining companion.

Though certainly aware of his arrival, Rosalie stood in profile, her unseeing gaze directed at the kitchen window.

Keeping in theme with the home's overall style, the surrounding space was sleek and airy, with a large island in the middle. The wooden cabinets had a cinnamon tone, whereas the granite countertops were dark gray. Unlike most kitchens, the longest counter had no backsplash and no upper cabinets. Instead, the wall behind the work space was made entirely of glass through which they could see the forest. Because the home had been designed with nature in mind, the surrounding evergreens completed the room's color palette, their vibrant needles contrasting beautifully against the room's white or gray walls.

If this had been a human household, breakfast would have undoubtedly been on the island right now—cereal or omelettes. There might have been a bowl of fruit on the counter, or a cup of coffee in Rosalie's hand. But because they were vampires, the space held none of those things. There was no food in the cabinets, no trash in the trash can. The bowls and cooking utensils were mere decorations, and the stainless steel appliances were all for show. Case in point, the dishwasher and gas stove had never been used, and the refrigerator wasn't even plugged in.

As useless as this space was, Rosalie could often be found in this area of the house, absently staring out the window like she was doing now. Though she came from a wealthy family, and had likely never cooked a day in her life, the domestic setting seemed to call to her. Perhaps it reminded her of her former life, or the life she had once dreamed of having. Whatever the reason, Carlisle had grown accustomed to finding her here, staring out in heavy silence.

Unlike his black jacket, charcoal turtleneck and dark pants, Rosalie was wearing light colors today. Her jeans were pale blue, her scoop neck top several shades whiter than her pale skin. As was her wont, the statuesque blond had left her hair unbound. Long, wavy lock that cascaded down her delicate shoulders.

Given her crushed hopes and dreams, he knew she found it difficult on sunny days. Being confined at home while the rest of humanity could walk out in the sun.

While she rarely confided in him, Rosalie had once confessed to her level of envy, how jealous she was of those who could sit at road-side restaurants and cafés, laughing and talking with their friends. "_They don't even know how lucky they are_." Her tone had been mostly bitter, her eyes even more so. "_They take it for granted_." Recalling her words, Carlisle knew that her jealousy had little to do with coffee dates, and more to do with mothers who got to push their baby strollers around. Women whose wombs weren't frozen like hers was. Women who could sit out in the sun and watch as their kids played in the park.

"Hi, Rose," he said quietly as the door clicked shut, sealing them from the sunlit world.

His greeting was met with a fleeting glance. "Hey. How was your hunt?"

"It was okay."

Her gaze returning to the forest outside, Rosalie sank into silence, while her elegant fingers toyed with the pendant at her neck, the one Carlisle had gifted to her all those years ago, with the Cullen crest engraved on the front.

"When did you get home?"

Because she wasn't due to hunt just yet, Rosalie had taken her car out for a spin last night.

"About an hour ago," was all she said.

Hoping to lighten her brooding mood, Carlisle searched his mind for something they could do together. A game of chess maybe. Or a game of cards. His eyes flickering to the adjoining living-room, an idea suddenly came to him.

"Hey, you feel like watching a movie today?" Given her current mood, he knew the odds of her saying yes were slim. But a chance was a chance; it was always worth a shot. "Your pick," he added with a small smile.

"Maybe some other time." Her refusal was expected, but disappointing nonetheless.

Rosalie lived in his house, yes, and he loved her like a sister. But the two existed in separate spheres most of the time. While Carlisle devoted his time to medicine and quiet pursuits such as reading, Rosalie spent most of her days in their office, or in the garage, maintaining or upgrading their collection of vehicles.

When they ventured outside the home, their paths rarely intersected. While Carlisle spent the majority of his time at the hospital, Rosalie rarely mingled with the people in Forks. In fact, she seldom went in town at all, preferring instead to go on road trips, to visit car shows, or go on shopping excursions in Port Angeles or Seattle.

That being said, their routines did overlap every once in a while. When Rosalie was in a rare social mood, she would sit with him, to read or watch a movie. Sometimes, she would even join him on a hunt. Additionally, they sometimes battled wits with a game of chess. And then there was their mutual love of two-man baseball, a game they had adapted, that they could only play during thunderstorms.

As she turned from the window, her high heels clicking as she sought a more private corner of the house, Carlisle looked after her retreating form, and couldn't help the pang in his chest.

How he hated to see her like this, wandering about the house like a ghost trapped by the past. Guilt assailed him. It was partly his fault. While Royce King and his drunken friends were responsible for snuffing out her life, Carlisle had condemned her to this limited immortality. And Edward as well. Looking back, he sometimes wondered why he had done such a thing. To help them? To save them? That's what he had told himself at the time.

Noble intentions aside, Carlisle could not deny that he had done it for other reasons as well, that he had changed them out of desperation, because he was a lonely soul who had grown weary of living alone in the world.

Now he was left with the knowledge that neither Rosalie nor Edward were happy. Rosalie because she resented the loss of her humanity. And Edward because he resented what he had become.

Thinking of his sister, Carlisle wondered if Rosalie would ever find peace and happiness. He truly wanted that for her. More than anything. How though? It would take a miracle most likely, a sudden and profound change in their unchanging lives.

At least it wasn't like her newborn years, when she'd hated him with such fiery passion, she'd nearly attacked him once. Now Rosalie tolerated, and sometimes even enjoyed his company. Behind the wall she had built around herself, he knew she had grown to care for him more deeply than she usually let on.

After all, without Edward to round out their coven, they were it. The two of them together in this lonely world. Vampires who couldn't allow themselves to get too close to humans. Vampires whose lifestyle was considered strange or aberrant by most of their kind.

Resigned to another morning alone, Carlisle sought his briefcase, that he had left on the bench by the front door. Retracing his steps, he was passing one of their many sitting-rooms when his gaze landed on the lone piano in the corner.

It didn't matter where they lived, or how many times he and Rosalie moved around the continent, the grand piano always came with them.

Because Edward was a traveller who never stayed in one place for very long, he had chosen to leave the instrument in their keeping. "_I'll be back, guys. Take care of my baby for me?_" These parting words had become a tradition of sorts, spoken at the end of each of his precious visits.

"_We will_," Carlisle always replied. "_And don't forget. No matter where we live, or how much time has passed, our family's house will always be your home_."

"_Thanks, Carlisle_." Though muted by sadness, Edward's answering smile always sparked a small one of his own.

One of Carlisle's most heartfelt wish was for him to return to them one day, to live alongside them as a brother should. Whether it was due to shame or a misplaced feeling of unworthiness, Edward felt that he couldn't just yet, not until he had better control over his nature. In his heart, he _wanted_ to be a "vegetarian" like Carlisle and Rosalie, but like an addict, found it hard to maintain.

_If only he would let me help him. _

But Edward was proud. He didn't want to be a burden—_as if such a thing was even possible_. No matter how many times Carlisle offered to help him, his first companion was fiercely independent. Regardless of how much he suffered, he wanted to do it on his own.

As the morning sun shone through the windows, Carlisle retired to his study to tackle the paperwork he had brought home from the hospital. As the tip of his pen rolled against the pages, he remained keenly aware of the utter silence in the house, of Edward's continued absence, and the fact that Rosalie was having a difficult time today.

Alone at his desk, he couldn't help but feel the weight of it. _I did this. I alone decided to change them. I alone forced them into this taxing and never-ending existence._ Bowing his head, he stopped writing, and set his pen down. Alone with his sorrowful thoughts, he sighed.

* * *

Bella awoke to a warm morning sun whose beams easily pierced the light blue curtains on her window. Normally, the nice weather would have been a welcome surprise. A sunny day in Forks? But today wasn't a normal day, where one rises to see what blessings it might bring. Rather, it felt like a miserable aftermath, filled with uncertainties and the scattered puzzle pieces that was her current life.

With a stretch and grimace, Bella groaned at the brightness, then rolled to face the other way. _Note to self. Pull down the roller blinds next time. _

Because she had hardly slept at all, her eyes felt scratchy this morning, like there was sand in them. And her temples were pounding, too.

_Great._

After several long moments of her just lying there, Bella sat up slowly, and pushed her blankets aside. Her legs dangling off the mattress, she stared at the floor while her hands rubbed the knots from her stiff neck. _God, I feel like shit._

Evan had been cheating on her, and now she knew.

_Three years. I wasted three years with him. Idiot_, she chastised herself.

_Now to pick up the pieces._ But with so many things to face, so many things to figure out…

"_You'll be alright, Bella_." Audrey's words, from not that long ago.

While the logical part of her brain recognized the truth in her friend's statement—she _was_ going to be okay—the invisible gash left by Evan's betrayal was too raw and too new.

_One day at a time_, she reminded herself. _One problem at a time_.

For now, the most pressing thing was figuring out how she was going to deal with all this. Bella might know the truth, but Evan didn't know that she knew. Though tempted to call and say all that was in her heart and mind, Bella hated the idea of doing it over the phone.

After all the lies, he deserved to see her anger, the hurt that now filled her eyes. He deserved to see what his selfish indulgence had done. But more than that, Bella felt that she had earned the right to see the look on his two-timing face when she told him it was over. That he wouldn't get to choose between her and Amber, because her mind was made up. She didn't need him. She didn't want him.

A man who lies and sneaks around… _Who the hell needs that?_

Rising to face this weird and daunting day, Bella soon showered and brushed her teeth. She had just dried her hair, and was getting dressed when her cell sounded.

_Of course, it'd be him. _

Her lips pressed in a line, she swallowed her ire, and let Evan's call go to voicemail.

Because she had a follow up appointment with Dr. Coleman later this afternoon, Bella had opted for jeans instead of leggings. Pulling a navy blue top over her cotton bra, she studied her reflection for a moment. Her face looked tired and drawn, and there were faint circles under her eyes. Having left her makeup at home—makeup she usually only wore to work or on a rare night out—Bella attempted to make herself presentable by styling her hair.

Going the easy route, she raked a bit of product in her wayward locks, and scrunched the ends until her hair fell in messy, textured waves.

By the time she shuffled into the kitchen, her feet ferrying her toward the miracle invention that was the coffee maker, Charlie was already at the stove, making their usual breakfast.

"Hey, I was just about to call you down to eat." Dressed in jeans and one of his signature plaid shirts, he checked on the bacon, and seemed pleased. "That's cooked." He turned off the stove.

"You want coffee?" Bella asked as she filled the glass pot with water.

"Sure."

Once she had poured the water in the machine, and measured out the appropriate amount of coffee grounds, Bella sensed Charlie's sidelong gaze, knew he was assessing her.

"You okay?" he asked. "You look tired."

"Yeah, I'm okay." Bella plugged the coffee maker and pressed the button. "Had a hard time falling asleep is all."

Leaving it at that, she helped her father set the table, then settled down to eat.

Because Charlie was old school, he still got the paper. The Daily Dispatch. His coffee mug in hand, he read and frowned at the front page. When he finally opened the newspaper to read the articles, Bella caught one of the headlines, the one behind her father's troubled expression.

_Police baffled. Search for missing continues._

Grateful for the silence, Bella picked at her food, but found she wasn't hungry enough to finish her eggs and toast. The coffee was good, though, the jolt of caffeine being exactly what she needed to feel partly human again.

When her cell rang for the second time, the screen showing it was Evan, Bella turned the ringer to silent.

Brows furrowed in question, her father lowered the paper, and regarded her for a moment.

The phone vibrated two more times, but Bella ignored it.

Charlie being Charlie, he likely knew it was Evan, but for a mercy chose to respect her privacy.

Over the next two hours, she received three texts from the unfaithful jerk. The first read, _I tried to reach you, but it kept going to voicemail. Call me back?_

The second, that he sent just before ten, was much shorter. _You there?_

Same for the third one, that simply read, _you okay?_

Around lunchtime, while Charlie was in the kitchen, talking to his partner on the phone, Bella found herself wandering about the living-room. Coming to stand near the mantel, she reached for a picture of her and Evan, that her father had taken sometime last summer.

She'd been happy then, oblivious to the heartache ahead.

"Yeah, for sure." Charlie's voice carried from the other room. "No, I'll definitely be going in on Wednesday," he was saying to Sean Reed. Having met him a few times, Charlie's work partner seemed like a stand-up guy. From what she had gathered, her father liked working with him.

"She is. Bella's feeling much better. In fact, if I keep hanging around, I think she's gonna get tired of me." Laughter laced his words, and she found herself chuckling, too.

There were a few seconds of silence, then, "Yup. Day shift. Sounds good. See you Wednesday."

Footsteps sounded. Her smile fading, Bella set the picture back on the mantel.

"Oh, hey," Charlie said when he saw her. "Didn't know you were in here. I thought you'd gone upstairs."

"Dad, can I ask you something?"

"Sure. What is it?"

Eyes still fixed on the picture, she said, "What is it about Evan that made you not like him?" Now Bella turned to face him.

While her father had never hidden the fact that he wasn't crazy about Evan, he had never actively meddled in her relationship either. In fact, the farthest he had gone was ask her opinion. "_You sure he's good for you, Bella?_" To which she had replied, "_He's good to me, dad_."

But that was then. Now she knew the truth, and felt rather stupid.

Lips pursed in thought, Charlie leveled a look at her, and sighed. "You want the short or long answer?"

"Both."

As he weighed his words, Charlie stood behind the couch, his hands coming to rest on the back of it. "I know you found him charming. The guy could be nice, I'll give you that. But he always struck me as someone who… someone who wants it all, someone who would put his needs ahead of yours."

Since Charlie rarely went on and on, Bella gave a fleeting smile—a half smile that ended in a soft chuckle. "Okay, I gather that's the long answer. What's the short one?"

"I just don't trust him." There. Straight to the point. "Never have. Maybe my line of work makes me overly suspicious, but something about him never sat right with me." He seemed curious all of sudden. "Why do you ask?"

"No reason."

What Charlie made of their conversation, Bella didn't know. Thankfully, with a small encouraging nod, he pushed away from the sofa and let her be.

Since this was a nice day, it wasn't long before Charlie headed outside. Coming to stand by one of the windows that overlooked the backyard, Bella swept her gaze over the lawn and bordering forest. Seeing no sign of her dad, she guessed that he'd gone to chop some wood, down the slanted trail that led to his wood pile.

Looking skyward through the glass, Bella studied the piercing blue sky for a moment. Forks being as rainy as it was, the lack of clouds felt rather out of place. But given her own lack of tears—last night and this morning—the weather seemed oddly fitting. Hoping the clear skies would usher in some much-needed clarity, Bella leaned against the windowsill, and weighed her options.

Evan's betrayal had been a veritable kick in the teeth, and she needed to deal with the situation. But that being said, Bella was sort of stuck for the time being.

As badly as she wanted to look him in the eye and tell him it was over, Seattle was nearly four hours away. Without a functioning car, how would she even get there? Rent a car? Maybe, but Bella had never much cared for car rentals. Charlie or Audrey would certainly drive her if she asked, but relying on people was not something she was used to. No, she would rather drive herself, and just might get to, if Jacob could somehow work his magic and fix her car.

Suddenly, the stillness was severed by a loud, echoing ring—not her cell phone, but Charlie's landline.

Thinking it might be the station, Bella slowly made her way to the kitchen. _Damn these aches and pains_. "Hold on," she said as the phone rang for a third time. As her hand wrapped around the clunky receiver, plucking it from its cradle, Bella couldn't supress her amusement.

Charlie's phone was a dinosaur. It truly was. Purchased in the early eighties, the wall-mounted touch-tone phone was nearly the size of a toaster. Beige, with a long spiral cord, it was totally vintage.

"Hello," she said upon answering, and regretted just as soon.

"_Thank God_."

Bella wanted to kick herself.

Fuck.

The caller was none other than mister dirtbag himself.

Fuck, fuck, fuck. She pinched the bridge of her nose.

"_Shit, Bella, I was worried sick_." Evan blew out a breath. "_I thought something happened. Why weren't you answering your phone?_"

_Breathe. Stay calm_, she told herself, and cursed her bad luck. This wasn't how she had planned it. But whatever, it was too late now. "I wasn't answering my phone because I didn't want to talk to you."

"_I'm sorry. So so sorry, sweetie. Like I said last night, I lost track of time and_—" He thought this was about his fictitious dinner with his mother?

_Unreal._

"You know what? Cut the crap, Evan. I know you weren't at your mother's last night." Oh wow. She was really doing this, then.

Evan had fallen silent. Maybe her meaning was dawning on him and he was shitting himself.

"How was dinner with Amber?" There. She had said it. And it felt surprisingly good. _Might as well get this out of the way._

"_Wait, what? Bella I_—"

Convinced he was going to deny it, she pushed on, her tone hard and uncompromising when she said, "Maybe you should be more careful when you hang up the phone. You didn't really do a good job of it last night."

Evan was stammering, in shock or shame, she didn't care.

Fuming, Bella said, "I know, okay? I know you've been seeing someone behind my back. That girl you work with."

Bolstered by the sudden fire under her feet, Bella clenched her fist, and continued without pause or forethought. "Pack your shit. I want you gone by the time I get home."

"_Bella wait. You can't_—"

Bitter laughter rose in her throat. "Oh, I definitely can. That apartment was mine before it was ours. Take your clothes, your sports stuff. Hell, take the furniture for all I care." She knew he wouldn't. She had picked everything out, and the pieces just weren't his style. "Except for the bookcase," she felt the need to add. "That one's mine. And leave my books and laptop." As she thought about all they had in their apartment, Bella's eyes widened in realization. "And don't you dare take Lollipop. She's _my_ cat. In fact, Audrey's picking her up today." Technically, she hadn't asked her yet, but Audrey had her back; she would do it, no question.

"_Sweetie, please_…" Evan's voice was a quivering whisper now. Was he seriously crying?

"You and me, we're _done_. You got that? It's over!"

With that, Bella hung up, actually got to slam the phone, 1980s style. So satisfying.

As she stood there, staring at the swaying phone cord, Bella actually laughed. A brief and slightly incredulous laugh, delivered as she dragged her trembling fingers through her hair.

As her mind finally caught up with what had just occurred, how quickly and decisively she had handled the situation, she took a step back, and blinked a few times_. "_Ha!_" _Her heart was beating a mile a minute.

_I did it. _

So what if she didn't get to see the look on his lying face? There would be other chances.

The important thing was that he knew. Evan finally knew and now she was free.

Good frigging riddance.

* * *

**So here was chapter 6. It was supposed to be longer than this, but as I was working on the following scenes (they're not quite finished yet), I felt it was a bit too long. So I decided to break it up. **

**To all who have been reading and reviewing, thank you so very much. Your feedback is such a gift. **


	7. Chapter 7 - Drawn to You

**As always, I would like to thank all my readers, with a special shout-out going to those who left reviews on chapter 6: UnderlinedSmile, Ruiniel, leelee202, kouga's older woman, and Nissa-Cullen. THANK YOU!**

***** Important side note about the town: As some of you might already know, in the books, Charlie's favourite restaurant is The Lodge, whereas in the movies, that restaurant is a diner called Carver Café. To avoid confusion, I'll clarify that in this fanfic, _both_ establishments exist—though each might be tweaked to fit my own imaginings. In this story, Carver Café is a little sideroad diner not far from where Charlie lives, while The Lodge is a larger venue on the opposite side of town.**

**Lastly, at the end of the last chapter, I said that we would learn more about Edward in this part. In order to move the story along, however, I decided to hold off on that. Now let's see what Carlisle and Bella are up to. Will they finally meet face to face in this part? Read on to find out. ;-)**

* * *

**CHAPTER 7**

**DRAWN TO YOU**

"_Please say you're bored out of your mind_. _Please say you're coming home soon._" These were Audrey's greeting words, her whining plea blending with the static on the line. "_Seattle misses you. Your cubicle misses you. Lollipop misses you. And you know who else misses you?_"

"Who?" Bella played along, biting back her amusement as she shifted on the couch. It was Tuesday afternoon, and after a day and a half of clear skies, clouds were moving in again. As the light beyond the living-room windows dimmed to a dull gray, Audrey's answer came through.

"_Me. _I _miss you!_ _Coffee breaks just aren't the same without you_."

Bella glanced at the clock, her eyes narrowing when she saw that it was after five. "Seems awfully late for a coffee break. I thought you'd be wrapping up by now."

"_Yeah, I'm pulling a late one today_. _This place is an absolute zoo_." The muffled thud of a closing cupboard door echoed over the phone. Doubtless Audrey was in the break room, fetching her favorite coffee mug from the upper cabinet. The pale blue one with a yellow flower on the front. "_Some idiot over in advertising opened a file with a damned virus. Knocked out half the computers in the office, including mine_."

"Ouch."

"_I know, right? The IT guys fixed the problem, but now we're all rushing to meet our deadlines_."

"Sounds fun."

Audrey snorted. "_That's one word for it_." Because she was up to speed on the whole Evan situation, it wasn't long before her amusement ceded to friendly concern. "_So, how are you doing today?_"

To say things were peachy keen would have been a lie. The past couple of days had been a veritable rollercoaster. So many emotions. So many changes on the horizon. After her explosive and cathartic breakup with Evan, Bella had wasted no time in contacting her best friend.

After her initial outrage and some rather incensed Evan-bashing, Audrey had lent her support by asking if there was anything she could do. At Bella's request, she had gone over to the apartment, using her spare key to pick up Lollipop while Evan wasn't there.

According to Audrey, some of his stuff was already gone. Not everything, but a few key items like his game console, and the autographed football he kept in the living-room. Bella had been relieved to hear it. The sooner he moved out, the better it would be.

Her gaze flickering to the photo album on the coffee table, Bella's focus shifted to Lollipop. "How's my grouchy cat doing?"

"_She really hated that pet carrier," _Audrey answered._ "But_ _I think she's finally over the car ride_. _You should have seen her this morning, strutting around my kitchen like she owns it_."

"That's Lollipop alright. Sounds like she's settling in."

_"__She is. I would have kept her in my room, but she wanted to sleep on the back of the couch last night. I suspect she'll be curled up in the same spot when I get back. So… returning to my original topic, when are you coming home?_"

"Well, Dr. Coleman said I'd be good to return to work on November sixth."

"_The sixth? That's nearly three weeks from now_."

"Yeah, but I'll be heading home before then. Maybe next week or the one after. I have a lot of things to sort through. The apartment for one. I can't lift anything just yet, but with Evan moving out, I'll have to reorganize a few things, not to mention getting my head on straight before I start work again."

"_It'll be nice having you back. When you finally get here, how about we do an ice cream movie night?_"

"I'd love that." A soft patter drew her attention, and she looked to see raindrops hitting the windowpane.

Audrey must have read something in the ensuing silence. Lowering her voice so others wouldn't overhear, she said, "_I know I sound like a broken record, but you're doing okay, right? You'd tell me?_"

"I would. And I am. It's just a lot to process, you know?"

A compassionate hum echoed over the phone, the sound blending with the intensifying rain outside. "_I can't even imagine."_

_"_It'll be fine." It really would. At least in time. "Don't worry_."_

_"Okay." _Something seemed to capture Audrey's attention. A beat later, she said, "_Shoot. I gotta go. I swear, this office is a mad house. I'll talk to you tonight?_"

"Like always."

"_Good._ _Later gator_."

Bella breathed a laugh. Audrey and her cheesy lines. "Later."

"Ah, dammit." Charlie's muffled curse reached her from the other room.

Rising to investigate, Bella found him at the stove, his head shaking from side to side as he inspected the smoking contents of his cast iron pan.

"Everything okay in here?" she asked and fanned a hand through the pungent haze.

"Yeah." Charlie planted his hands on his hips, his shoulders rising on a heavy sigh. "But unless you want to eat these rubber soles here,"—using a fork, he pierced one of the blackened steaks, and held it up so she could see—"how about we eat out tonight?"

Trying not to laugh, she tapped her chin in feigned deliberation. "Rubber soles or eating out… Tough choice."

Five minutes later, the two had grabbed their jackets and were leaving the house.

"Careful, Bells," Charlie said as he helped Bella into the passenger seat of his police cruiser. Shoulders hunched against the downpour, he held to her arm as she lowered herself into the seat. Some of the aches were still there, but nothing like before. A few more days, and she'd feel like new again.

"You alright there?"

"Yeah, I'm good," she answered over the driving rain, angling her legs slightly to the left as her father shut the passenger door.

As Charlie rounded the front bumper, hurrying to seek refuge in the car, Bella fastened her seatbelt. Less than a second later, the driver side door opened and Charlie climbed in. His beige jacket was already drenched at the shoulders, and his hair was pretty wet, too. "Man! It's coming down pretty hard." After wiping the water from his brow, he slid his key in the ignition and started the cruiser. "I'm really sorry about dinner. I don't know what happened. I promise, your old man _can_ cook a decent steak."

"I know. And don't feel bad. It happens to everyone." A mirthful look crossed her features. "And you seem to forget, I lived with mom most of my life. She wasn't exactly the best cook."

Charlie chuckled at that. "True." After putting the car in reverse, he angled his body to look out the back window. "So where to? Carver Café or The Lodge?"

As they pulled out of the driveway, Bella gave it some thought. "They're both good, but we went to The Lodge last time I was here. Do you mind if we go to the diner instead?"

"Not at all. A burger's a burger."

And so they headed toward Carver Café.

Except for the sound of the rain, that of the engine, and the rubbery swipe of the windshield wipers, the first half of the drive was spent in easy silence. As the cruiser followed a logging truck, Bella stared at the double wheels, lulled by the fine spray the wet tires were leaving in their wake.

As Charlie drove his cruiser down the road, he craned his neck, his gaze seemingly drawn by something ahead and to his left. "Looks like Jake finally got your car."

Following his line of sight, Bella noted that her battered vehicle was no longer at the local repair shop.

Charlie said, "I called Merle yesterday morning,"—Merle was the owner of M.T. Auto Repair—"I told him Jake and his buddies would be stopping by to tow it out of there."

"Looks like he didn't waste any time."

"He was really itching to work on your car. I bet you he'll have it up and running in no time."

They were in the middle of town now. As the logging truck stopped at an intersection, Charlie maintained a safe distance, and slowed to a stop as well. Once they were underway again, Bella's thoughts kept going back to the other night, to that conversation she'd had with Jacob. His hostile reaction had taken her aback, and puzzled her still.

"_Dr. Cullen. As in Carlisle Cullen?_"

"_Carlisle Cullen, yeah. He was hiking in the area when he found me_."

Even now, she remembered how Jake had shaken his head, laughing sardonically when he'd said, "_Hiking, right_."

What did he mean by that? And what did he have against the mild-mannered doctor who had saved her life? The fact that others felt the same, that the Quileutes were now boycotting the hospital for the simple reason that Dr. Cullen worked there…

Bella couldn't wrap her mind around any of it.

Not one to shy away from a good mystery, however, she had resolved to find out more about this nebulous feud. It'd be a good way to pass the time, she reasoned. A good way to keep Evan out of her thoughts until her return to Seattle.

Yesterday, when she had gone to the hospital for her follow-up appointment, Bella had hoped to run into him, the enigmatic Dr. Cullen. Not seeing him anywhere, she had even approached one of the secretaries. "_Hi. Sorry to bother you. Could you tell me if Dr. Cullen is working today?_"

"_I'm sorry, it's his day off. It's sunny today."_

Seeing Bella's confusion, the woman had gone on to explain that he never worked on sunny days.

"_Seriously?_"

"_Pretty cushy arrangement, I know. The man likes to go camping apparently_. _I hear he worked it into his contract and everything._"

As the roadside diner became visible in the distance ahead, the riddle otherwise known as Dr. Cullen remained firmly anchored in her mind.

_He's a camping enthusiast who likes to hike in the rain, _she thought, enumerating what little she knew of him._ He never works on sunny days._

Bella's fingertips drummed against her pantleg.

_Alright, so he likes the outdoors._

Other than that, though, it didn't explain much, if anything at all.

And so the mystery remained. If the opportunity presented itself, maybe she would be lucky enough to solve it. In the meantime, the only thing Bella could do was wait and see. That and grab a bite to eat.

* * *

Carlisle was driving through the rain, his windshield wipers keeping cadence with the rock song on the radio.

Though some might find the weather depressing, he was rather relieved to see the rain. After all, rain meant clouds. And for him, clouds meant a return to normalcy, being free to wander into town during daylight hours.

It was a shame the rain hadn't come sooner, though. Day was already waning, and in a few short hours, it would be night again.

Carlisle hadn't been scheduled to work today—only tomorrow morning—but he was heading to the hospital anyway, to drop off some paperwork and see if he had any messages. Because he wasn't on the clock, he wouldn't be doing official rounds, but he would check on some of his patients all the same. Two of his most complicated cases. Just to see how they were doing.

The rock song faded to a commercial. Thinking he would switch to his own selection of music, Carlisle navigated his playlist, then chose a musical piece at random. As Erik Satie's _Gymnopédie No. 1 _played at low volume, Carlisle watched the passing scenery, and enjoyed the drive.

At present, the winding road was lined with trees, but there were houses up ahead, as well as a few businesses, including the town's roadside diner.

Built way back in the twenties, the flat-roofed structure had once been a general store. As it came into view, Carlisle remembered the original wooden siding, and the hand-painted sign that used to hang above the door.

Except for its structural shape and the placement of most of its windows, the building looked very different than it did back then. Set before a rich backdrop of evergreens, the restaurant's exterior was a combination of light gray clapboard, dark green trim, and a matching awning.

Instead of a muddy lot, the ground outside the building had long since been paved over. When Carlisle and his family had resided here at the end of the 1930s, car purchases had been on the rise, but not everyone had them. Like a superimposed image in his mind, he could still see the water trough on the side of the building, and the horse-drawn buggies that would pull up every now and again.

Smiling in reminiscence, Carlisle was about to focus on the road when his attention snagged on a familiar vehicle in the parking lot. A police cruiser. Even at a distance, Carlisle easily read the number on the side. _That's Charlie's car._

And sure enough, there he was, sitting near to the front window. And he wasn't alone. Next to him was the woman who had been haunting Carlisle's thoughts for over three weeks now. The woman he had been secretly yearning to see.

Presently, Bella Swan was sitting at the corner table, hanging on to her father's every word.

Because vampire brains could absorb sensory information at lightning speed, little escaped Carlisle's notice. Even as he was driving up, he could see and hear everything. Like a scene playing in slow motion, he heard her snort of laughter as she raised her half empty glass to her full lips. He caught the widening of her chocolate brown eyes as Charlie regaled with a story about a daredevil stunt involving an innertube and a motorized canoe.

"Oh my god, you didn't." Bella nearly spit out her soda. "You could have died!"

From the corner of his eye, Carlisle caught the rhythmic flash of a turn signal. His senses being what they were, he didn't have to look at the road to know that the truck ahead of him was turning into a nearby driveway. Easing up on the gas, Carlisle slowed to a stop.

At Bella's remark, Charlie shrugged, amusement threading his gruff voice when he said, "I was young and stupid back then."

The lane ahead of him was now clear. Since he couldn't stay in the middle of the road, Carlisle released the break, and pressed on the gas, staring at Bella for as long as he could. Only when the diner was out of his peripheral vision did he look to the road once again, his grip tightening on the steering wheel as he grappled with what to do. _Keep driving, Cullen. Don't you dare turn around. You can't go to her. _

Anyway, what would he do if he did? Say hi then sit at a nearby table? Order vile food so he could steal glances and eavesdrop like some sort of stalker?

_Yeah, I'm not that far gone_. He might have Bella on the brain, but Carlisle wasn't a creep. Quite frankly, he already felt bad for the way he had intruded just now.

Once he had reached the hospital, and pulled into his designated parking space, Carlisle turned off the ignition, and grabbed his briefcase. Using it as a shield against the rain, he made a bee-line for the side entrance. Here he would find peace, he thought. Here he would find the distraction he craved and needed.

To him, being a doctor was much more than a profession. It was a calling, a way to make up for his nature, and do actual good in this world.

Breathing a sigh of relief, Carlisle opened the door and walked in. No sooner had he done so than a familiar scent wafted to his nose, catching him off guard. Faltering mid-step, it was a moment before he gathered himself.

Because the scent was so faint, Carlisle guessed that Bella had walked these halls sometime within the last twenty-four hours. If he hadn't seen her at the diner just now, he would have wondered if she was unwell—a lingering effect from her accident perhaps, or something else. She did say she was a klutz, after all.

But from what he had seen through the restaurant window, Bella seemed well. Reasoning that she had swung by the hospital for her follow-up appointment with Dr. Coleman, Carlisle set his worries aside, and tried not to think of his singer.

Loosening his tie by a fraction, he passed by the nurse's station, where he nodded to a swooning secretary, and dropped off his paperwork. Continuing toward his office, he shut the door behind him, and leaned heavily against it.

_It's fine. You're fine,_ he kept telling himself. And he was.

Although it was present, the burn in his throat was nowhere near as bad as before.

Because their paths had already diverged, perhaps this would be the last time he would smell Bella's scent. Perhaps he had already seen the last of her through that restaurant window. The notion saddened him more than he cared to admit.

Remembering why he was here, Carlisle settled at his desk, checked his messages, and made a few brief phone calls. From there, he followed through with his initial idea, and went to see a few of his patients. This being dinner time, however, Carlisle didn't linger for very long. Instead, after making certain each patient was doing well, he wished them a good evening, and was on his way.

His footfalls echoing against the linoleum, Carlisle heaved a cheerless sigh. He had been wrong; his visit at the hospital hadn't been the escape he had hoped for. No matter where he went or what he did, thoughts of Bella followed.

Thinking fresh air would help, Carlisle carried his empty briefcase over to his car.

Alone in his Mercedes, he wiped the rain from his face, and simply sat there for a moment. Unsure of what to do with his time, Carlisle figured he could swing by the Thriftway and pick up a few things. Not food, no. But last he had checked, he and Rosalie were running low on cleaning products.

Fifteen minutes later, he was pushing a grocery cart down aisle two when he caught the sound of the automatic doors opening and closing. At first, he paid it no mind—with people coming off work, the store was rather busy right now—but while he was scanning the shelves for laundry detergent, a strong and familiar scent slammed into him, making him freeze on the spot.

It was a good thing he was alone in the aisle, for here he was, eyes slipping closed as he filled his lungs with the scent he would know anywhere. A scent he loved despite the physical pain it caused him.

_She's here. _

Bella Swan was in this very store _at_ this very moment.

_God help me. _

* * *

"Are you sure you wouldn't rather stay in the car?" Charlie asked as he fetched a shopping cart.

"No, dad,"—Bella rubbed her face in exasperation—"don't be silly. I can manage a few minutes in a store."

As she looked on, Charlie's cart snagged. He had to jiggle the handle to pull it free. Pitching her voice over the racket, Bella bit back a smirk, and said, "And no offense, it's nice to be out and about." Even for something as mundane as grocery shopping.

Charlie weighed her words for a moment. Handing the cart over, he chewed the inside of his cheek. "Okay, how about this? How about we save some time by splitting up? I'll grab some things at the opposite end of the store while you do the produce section here." His brows rose as if to say, _sound good?_

Bella nearly rolled her eyes, but ultimately agreed. "Sure. Why not?"

Charlie grabbed another cart and had barely taken five steps when he called over his shoulder. "If you start feeling tired, just text me."

"Will do."

"And no potato sacks. You're not supposed to lift anything heavy, remember?"

With a long-suffering shake of her head, she watched as Charlie disappeared between the aisles. _Fathers_…

Glad to be on her own, Bella wove her way between the various displays, picking up produce as she went. A minute or two later, she was nearing the back of the store when the oddest feeling came over her, as if someone was watching from afar.

Slowing to a stop, Bella looked over her shoulder just as the feeling dissipated. Seeing nothing, she was about to resume her shopping when her gaze landed on a familiar figure at the end of aisle two. _Oh wow, it's him_. The mystery man of the hour, the kind doctor who had saved her life.

Her mouth slightly agape, Bella remained where she was, watching as Carlisle Cullen scanned a line of cleaning products, his back to her.

_You imagined it. He wasn't watching you._

She, on the other hand, couldn't help looking him up and down.

For an outdoorsman, he didn't exactly dress the part. Instead of jeans and plaid—a style that was distressingly common in these parts—Dr. Cullen was dressed in charcoal colored slacks, gray dress shoes, and a simple leather jacket.

Teeth clamping over her bottom lip, she noted that he was wearing a scarf as well. Not a heavy winter one, but a dressy knit. As he stood there, comparing various prices and brands, Bella had to admit, the man knew how to dress.

Recalling the night he had brought her a mug of hot water and a selection of herbal teas, she knew he was thoughtful, too. Talking with him that night had been refreshing. Nice. And though she hardly knew him, she had felt completely at ease in his presence.

Regardless of what Jacob thought, Bella's intuition told her he was a decent guy. Why the animosity, then? According to Charlie, the Quileutes disliked the doctor because of something that happened nearly a century ago. A slight or disagreement involving their ancestors.

In Bella's view, it should have been ancient history. But clearly, the Quileutes didn't see it that way.

Thinking she would head on over to say hi, she promptly grabbed a tomato from the nearest display, and slipped it in a plastic bag. Before she could push her cart in his direction, however, someone stepped in her way.

"Hey! Arizona!"

Caught by surprise, it was a moment before she could find her voice. "Mike, hi."

Mike Newton had been a classmate of hers at Forks High School. Sporting a grin, he stood as an unknowing barrier between herself and the object of her fascination.

"Wow, long time no see," he was saying. "It's been what… two, three years?"

Distracted by the doctor, Bella craned her neck so she wouldn't lose sight of him. Remembering her manners, however, she quickly dragged her gaze back to her high school friend, a guy who had been unfailingly kind to her in those days.

"Um, two and a half, I think," she answered, and remembered to smile.

"Man, it's good to see you."

"It's good to see you, too. So how…" She cleared her throat. "How've you been?"

Underneath his baseball cap, Mike's short hair was a pale shade of blond, lighter than Dr. Cullen's warm honey gold.

"Not too bad," he said by way of answer. "Gearing up to take over my parents' store. Mom and dad want to retire next year."

For as long as she remembered, Mike's parents had owned the sporting goods store here in town. Newton's Olympic Outfitters. Bella hadn't been there in years, but she'd worked there as a teen.

Because Forks was a small town, where news and rumors had a tendency to spread like a bad rash, it wasn't long before Mike brought up the accident. "I heard you were in the hospital and everything."

"Yeah, but as you can see, I'm out now. Still in one piece." Hiding her discomfort behind a tight smile, Bella listened as he went on, saying how glad he was that she was okay.

Switching topics, Mike then told her that he and his wife, Olivia, were expecting their first baby. "She's three months along." The excitement on his face couldn't be missed.

Genuinely glad for him, Bella offered her congratulations.

From there, Mike filled her in on some of their high school friends. "Most of them moved away of course, but Tyler's still in town,"—he pointed over his shoulder—"and Angela lives less than a half hour away."

"I've kept in touch with Angela over the years, so I knew she lived near here. But Tyler, I had no idea. You all still hang together?"

"You know how it is. After graduation, we pretty much all drifted apart. But then, two years ago, the three of us ran into each other at a fourth of July barbecue. We ended up talking for hours. Even our spouses hit it off. Now we meet up every other week."

"That's great." As kind and engaging as Mike was, Bella found it hard to concentrate on what he was saying. Unable to help herself, she kept stealing glances at Dr. Cullen, who was unhurriedly moving away.

"Actually, we're all heading over to The Lodge later tonight," Mike was saying. "You wanna come with?" His invitation captured her attention, his hopeful face suddenly filling her field of view.

Promptly gathering herself, Bella blinked a few times. "It'd be nice, but I don't think I'm up to it tonight. Doc says I still need to take it easy."

"Oh. Right. Maybe next time, then."

"Yeah, maybe."

His features set in gladness, Mike took a backward step. "Great. Well, I suppose I should get going." He indicated the frozen section. "Olivia will be wanting that ice cream."

Though the timing of their conversation hadn't been the best, Bella's laugh was genuine. "Best not to keep her waiting. See you around, Mike."

Once he had gone, she looked for Dr. Cullen again only to find that he was no longer there. _Shoot._

Resigned to the fact that she had probably missed her chance, Bella swallowed her disappointment, and resumed her shopping. Finished with the produce section, she took to the aisles. She had already grabbed some pasta and was perusing the canned goods when a honeyed voice reached her ears.

"Hello, Isabella."

With a shy but heartfelt smile, Bella closed her eyes for an instant. Turning to face him, she said, "Dr. Cullen. Hey."

Maneuvering his cart so it wouldn't be in the way, the blond doctor released the handle, and shoved his hands in his pockets. "It's good seeing you on your feet. I gather you're feeling better?"

The kindness of his tone matched that of his golden eyes.

As he waited for her reply, Bella kicked her dumbstruck brain into gear. "I'm feeling much better, thanks." Hoping to overcome her awkwardness, she was searching for something to say when her gaze flickered to his cart. "I gather there's a special on cleaning supplies?"

Instead of food, the bottom of his shopping cart was lined with everything from laundry detergent and fabric softener, to floor and glass cleaner and disposable dusting cloths.

His answering chuckle was endearing. "I was just running low on things."

Unable to maintain eye-contact—he was just too pretty—Bella contemplated the rest of his attire. Now that they were face to face, the opening of his jacket revealed a light gray cardigan with a pale blue button down and tie.

The colors suited him, she thought and swallowed thickly before meeting his eyes again. "So how have you been?"

"I've been well. I had a few days off, but I'm starting work again tomorrow." He was about to say more when an old man walked up to Bella, asking if he could pass.

Aware that she was obstructing the aisle, Bella grabbed her cart, and pulled it in front of Carlisle's. As the old man walked by, there was no missing the wary look he cast toward the doctor. Unless her eyes were cheating her, he seemed rather eager to get away from him. _What is up with the people in this town?_

Seemingly embarrassed, Dr. Cullen unobtrusively stepped to the side, widening the space between himself and the retreating man.

_He knows. He knows that man is wary of him._

Feeling somewhat bad for Carlisle, Bella pretended not to notice.

As a clerk spoke over the speaker, informing the shoppers of some of their specials, Dr. Cullen engaged her in small talk, asking how her father was doing.

"He's doing good," she answered, and rose on her toes to look around them. "In fact, he's in here somewhere."

Silence fell between them. This time, their gazes held.

Without knowing why, her heart quickened a little—though not as much as the time he had dropped by her hospital room. The strength of her reaction had been rather startling, if she was honest. Bella had never been one to lose her head at the sight of a handsome man.

Thankfully, her response felt a lot more normal today. If she felt a bit nervous, it was only because he had piqued her curiosity, and she had been thinking about him earlier in the day.

Rooted to the spot, she swallowed hard, and watched as he cleared his throat. "I suppose I should leave you to your shopping." His polite smile seemed regretful.

Not wanting to part ways just yet, Bella indicated the aisle. "Alright, but since we're headed in the same direction..." Hoping he would catch her meaning, she allowed the sentence to trail.

After a moment of deliberation, Dr. Cullen agreed with a smile and a nod. Then they were both moving, pushing their carts nearly side by side.

"This is different," Bella said after a time, chuckling as she reached for a can of mushrooms.

"What's different?"

"Grocery shopping with my doctor."

The laugh he gave loosened her nerves.

Matching her leisurely pace, he leveled a mirthful look at her. "Technically, I'm not your doctor."

"That's right. You were filling in for Dr. Coleman when you looked me over that time."

His chin dipped downward at that. Perhaps he was as embarrassed as she was. After all, they had both behaved oddly that day.

And so they ambled along. Though their silence was comfortable, Bella searched for something to say. "So... Have you done any roadside rescues today?"

Laughter as his response, Dr. Cullen shook his head.

Emboldened by his reaction, she prodded all the more. "No hiking by the highway, then?"

"Not today, no. Saving stranded motorists is something I do on the weekends." As reserved as he seemed, the guy had a sense of humor. Bella liked that.

Stealing glances every now and again, she matched his easy stride, grabbing a few items along the way. "Aren't you getting anything?" she found herself asking.

"Um. Yes. Yes, I am." Looking to the shelf, her shopping companion promptly grabbed a can of tuna before reaching for some wax beans.

Maybe she was wrong, but the way he was plucking items off the shelf made it seem like he was picking things at random. Puzzled but amused, Bella continued with her shopping. She was straining to reach an item on the topmost shelf, inwardly cursing her short legs, when he moved closer to her.

"Here. Allow me."

Bella acquiesced by stepping aside, but as Dr. Cullen fetched the carton of chicken stock, she found herself staring up at him, breathing in deep. _Whoa…_ To say that the man smelled good would have been an understatement. It was a clean and refreshing scent, with a hint of spice underneath. Very appealing.

Snapping out of it, Bella took the proffered carton, and thanked him.

Having reached the end of the aisle, they were turning into the next one when they crossed paths with two gabbing women. No sooner had they seen Carlisle than they stopped midway through their discussion. Slack-jawed, the women stared and stared as he passed them by.

Carlisle, on the other hand, paid them no mind.

Bella motioned over her shoulder. "Come on, you had to have seen that."

"Seen what?"

Her eyes widened, and she bit back a laugh. "Those women. The way they're staring at you? I must say, you have a rather noticeable effect on people."

Before he could deny it, Bella pushed on. "I spent quite a bit of time at the hospital, remember? I saw how the nurses looked at you." Alright, so she was teasing. Thankfully, Dr. Cullen took it all in stride.

"Is that so?"

Bella snorted. "Uh, yeah!"

Instead of answering her original query, the man scratched the back of his neck. "So, are you enjoying the rain?"

Her brows shot toward her hairline. "You're asking me about the weather?"

There was that shyness again. He really did have a pretty smile. "Yes, I suppose I am."

As he waited patiently, Bella considered her answer. "When I was a teen, I didn't really like the rain. Or any cold, wet thing. But now, I don't mind it so much." Maybe it was the sound. Or maybe it was the little rivulets that coursed down the windows, distorting the surrounding view, cocooning her from the outside world. As she walked by a row of baking supplies, her shoulders rose on a shrug. "Maybe it's just me, but rainy days seem like a good excuse to fire up a kettle and open a book."

"You like to read?"

Bella gave a nod, and explained that she had majored in English. Before she could say anything else, however, Charlie's voice netted her attention.

"There you are." As he walked up to meet them, his gaze flitted over to her shopping companion. "Oh, hi, doc."

"Charlie," this one greeted, and extended his hand.

Once the two had exchanged a few pleasantries, Charlie turned his attention to Bella again. "I picked up some steaks. Some bacon, eggs, and milk. Got everything on your end?"

"Yeah, I think we're good."

As they made their way toward the cash register, it seemed Dr. Cullen was also done with his shopping. Upon reaching the line, he motioned for Bella and her father to go first.

A minute or so later, as the cashier scanned their items, Bella couldn't help but overhear a nearby conversation between two employees. "It must have happened within the last hour or so," a balding man was saying. The badge on his shirt indicated he was the manager. "Probably some kids with too much time on their hands."

He was frowning, she noted. The man seemed rather miffed. "Alright, well I'm going to call the cops."

"Wait," the other employee responded, and pointed over at Charlie. "The Chief of Police is here."

"Dad," Bella said quietly, and nudged his arm.

Following her line of sight, Charlie frowned, and addressed the manager. "Hi, Ed. Something wrong?"

Keeping his voice low, the man walked up to them, and said, "I'll say. The back of our store just got vandalized. There's graffiti all over the loading door and the outside wall."

"I trust you have surveillance footage?"

"We should, yes. The security room's out back."

At this, Charlie turned to Bella. "Mind taking care of this for me?" He handed her his wallet. "I'm gonna radio the station and get a unit in."

As her father hurried on over to his cruiser, Bella pocketed Charlie's wallet before retrieving her own. Sensing the doctor's gaze on her, she looked sidelong at him. "Best to keep this between us. Charlie hates it when I try to pay for things."

"He likes to look after his daughter."

"Yeah, but he's done more than enough for me lately. This is the least I can do."

By the time he returned, Charlie had donned the police jacket he kept handy in his trunk. With his radio now hooked to his shoulder, and his flashlight hanging on his belt, it was clear he would be handling this one. He might be out of uniform, but because he always kept his gun on him, Charlie was always ready for duty.

Shaking the water from his salt and pepper hair, he walked on over to Bella. "Do you mind if I call Jake to come and get you? I'm gonna have to take this one. All the other units are out on calls."

"Sure. But I can call him. Go do your thing."

"If I may," Dr. Cullen interjected. "I can drive her home."

Surprised by the offer, the two looked at him for a moment.

"You wouldn't mind?" Charlie asked, and put away his phone.

"Not at all."

Because he knew and trusted Dr. Cullen, Charlie looked in Bella's direction. "You mind going with him?"

"I don't mind." To Carlisle, she said, "If it's not any trouble."

"It's no trouble at all. I would be happy to drive you."

* * *

**To all who are reading this, thank you for checking out my story. I know it isn't fast-paced, but from here on out, we'll get a lot more interactions between Carlisle and Bella. If you feel like leaving a comment, I would love to hear from you.**

**As for those who are waiting for an update on "Of Dust and Everlasting Stars", I'm happy to report that it's finally taking shape. I had the beginning all written, and a part of the end. But the middle part of my chapter was giving me trouble. Yesterday, while I was working on it, an idea suddenly came to me, and now I'm kind of glad I didn't rush to update. I think the chapter will read a lot better now. **

**Until next time, I hope you are all doing well. Happy Sunday, everyone. **

**CygnusRift xox**


	8. Chapter 8 - Against Reason

**As always, thanks go out to all my readers, and all who have favorited or are following the story. **

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**CHAPTER 8**

**AGAINST REASON**

Carlisle had lost his mind.

Clearly.

When Bella had first walked in the store, he should have done the sane and rational thing, and rushed out of there. Instead, he had selfishly sought her out, breaking his own rules for the simple reason that he couldn't help himself.

Whenever Bella was around, it was like… like his brain would go for a long and carefree walk, taking all of his common sense with it.

Not only had he engaged his singer in conversation, he had then browsed the aisles with her. If she had been anyone else, it might have been harmless. But Bella was a perceptive woman who, unlike most people, seemed all too aware of his oddities.

As they had guided their carts along the aisles, Bella had noted the dazzling effect he had on women, and boldly pointed it out. As for the elderly man who had hurried past them in order to get away from him, she had caught that, too. Only she hadn't said anything that time.

There could be no doubt, Bella Swan had keen eyes and an inquisitive mind. If Carlisle had any sense, he would keep his distance from her. Instead, he had offered to drive her home, prolonging his time with her in the cramped interior of a car. _Real smart_, _Cullen. _Scent-wise, the woman was temptation personified.

As he pulled up next to the covered entrance in front of the Thriftway, where Bella was currently waiting by their shopping carts, her gaze sliding over his Mercedes as he came to a stop, Carlisle blew out a breath and sought to calm his jumbled nerves.

She wasn't even in the car yet and already he could feel the heat in his throat. Worried that his eyes would betray his nature, Carlisle craned his neck to catch his reflection in the rear-view mirror.

Gold. His irises hadn't changed color yet. _At least that. _

Leaving the car running, Carlisle popped the trunk, and stepped out into the rain. "Sorry to have kept you waiting."

At least Bella was dry, the store's overhang protecting her from the downpour.

"You didn't," she assured him, and reached for her grocery bags.

No sooner had she looped a hand through the plastic handles than Carlisle cleared his throat, and leveled a look at her. Now in doctor mode, he cocked a brow, and waited.

"No lifting. Right." Bella yielded with a sigh.

"Nothing over ten pounds," he reminded her with a small, benevolent smile. "I'm sure Dr. Coleman told you, but your body is still healing. Physical stress could raise your blood pressure and cause a bleed." With that, Carlisle opened the passenger door, and motioned for her to take a seat. "Ladies first."

What Bella made of his archaic manners, he couldn't really say. Her tiny smirk could mean a number of things.

Heeding his advice, she abandoned her groceries, and entered the vehicle. Once Bella was seated, Carlisle should have stepped back, and closed the door. Instead, he kept staring at her, and she kept staring at him, with a subtle blend of amusement and confusion on her face.

Doubtless she was wondering why he was watching her, his mouth curved in pure gladness.

It was yet another thing he couldn't seem to help. The rational part of his brain might have been shouting that this was reckless and stupid, but the rest of him didn't seem to care. He liked being around her—this unique and intriguing woman he would give anything to be friends with.

_You can't, though_, he reminded himself before lowering his gaze and shutting the door. As the rain continued to drip off the overhand, Carlisle placed the groceries in the trunk before returning the shopping carts inside. From there, he quickly retraced his steps, and returned to his idling car.

Closing the door at the same time Bella fastened her seatbelt, he cast a fleeting glance in her direction. _Remember the rules, _he told himself. Acquaintances were acceptable. Forming human friendships was not.

To that end, Carlisle would drive her to Charlie's house and help with the groceries. But after that, he would put an end this madness by bidding her good night and heading on home, parting ways for what should be the last time—unless he ran into her by chance again someday.

Ignoring the pang in his chest, Carlisle put the car in drive, and set out across the parking lot.

"Thanks for the lift," Bella offered as the Mercedes neared the street. "You didn't have to do that."

"It's no trouble at all. Only I'm afraid you'll have to steer me in the right direction. I have no idea where Charlie lives."

"Sure. Just turn left here."

Following her directions, Carlisle exited the parking lot, while Bella twisted to look over her shoulder. "Um… I think you missed a stop sign?"

"Did I? My apologies."

What Bella mistook for a blunder was actually a habit. Used to moving at blinding speeds, Carlisle didn't always abide by the rules of the road. Thanks to his superior vision and reflexes, there was no risk of crashing; he was always in complete control. But because Bella didn't know this, Carlisle trained his eyes on the road, and refrained from pressing too heavily on the gas.

At first, neither of them said anything. But as they passed in front of Newton's Olympic Outfitters, Bella nudged her chin toward his hand, her curiosity surfacing when she said, "That's an interesting ring."

"It's a family heirloom," he replied, mixing lie with truth. The ring bore his family's crest, it was true, but instead of being handed down, he'd had it commissioned soon after he had changed Edward. A ring for himself. A leather cuff bracelet for his first companion. Then finally, a pendant necklace for Rosalie.

"It's very beautiful," Bella offered as his gaze flickered to her delicate hands. No ring. Recalling the man who had rushed to her bedside shortly after her surgery, Carlisle wondered where he was. Perhaps he and Bella were having romantic troubles. Or then maybe the man had gone back to Seattle to fulfill professional obligations.

Setting his pointless contemplations aside, Carlisle reached for his collar, and loosened his tie by a fraction. His throat was definitely burning now. A glance in the rear-view mirror confirmed that his eyes had darkened a little, too. _Uh-oh._

If the weather wouldn't have been so cold and wet, Carlisle would have vented the space by opening a window. But because Bella was in the car, he turned on the heat instead, hoping the air would lessen his thirst and lighten the color of his eyes.

As uncomfortable as he was, Carlisle had to own that it wasn't as bad as before. Compared to the time he had climbed in the back of Bella's battered car, his reaction was a lot more manageable. At least he wasn't fantasizing about sniffing her neck this time.

Outside the car, the rain was quickly lessening to a drizzle, and the roiling clouds weren't as dark.

His mind going back to their conversation in the store, Carlisle broke the silence by saying, "Earlier, you mentioned that you'd majored in English. What do you do, Bella?"

"I'm a proof-reader for a home and garden magazine."

"A proof-reader," he echoed before asking, "Do you enjoy it?"

Bella gave it some thought. "More or less. It's not exactly the job I envisioned when I was working toward my degree, but at least it's in my field."

"What was it? The job you envisioned."

"Honestly?" Her eyes narrowed in contemplation. "I'm not quite sure. I love the English language, and I love written words. There's a part of me that loves the idea of sharing that passion. For a while, I thought maybe teaching? But then I decided it wasn't for me."

"Is there a particular reason why?"

Unbeknownst to Bella, Carlisle was no stranger to teaching. Whenever he and Rosalie would move, the two would often reinvent themselves, alternating between professions in order to blend in. While Rosalie bounced between being a college student, staying at home, or taking odd jobs as a mechanic, Carlisle usually alternated between medicine and teaching at a university level. Back in the early 2000s, he had changed things up by studying electrical engineering and computer science over at MIT. The subject might have been out of his usual field, but he found it quite useful, especially when it came to erasing his digital footprint, something his coven did on a regular basis.

To his right, Bella was still weighing her answer. "I think I just have a hard time imagining myself in front of a class," she said before giving a shrug. "When I graduated, I applied at several places. A few newspapers, and a publishing house. But then I landed that job at the magazine, and I ended up staying. For a time, I liked it well enough. If I'm being completely honest, I'm getting rather bored with it now." Her chin lowered for a moment, and he caught that blush again. "Thirty years old, with no real clue what I want to do with my life. Isn't that sad?"

"No," he countered softly, then looked to the road. "There was a time in my life when I felt… I guess the word I'm searching for is… lost? Like I was on this aimless path."

As he drove down a curving section of road, his mind went back to those lonely years of wandering the English countryside. No friends. No sire to guide him.

Carlisle met Bella's eyes again, his mouth curving a little when he added, "But I eventually found my purpose."

"Medicine," she guessed warmly before saying, "But you're, what? Thirty?"

"Thirty-one," he answered automatically, falling back on his cover story.

Physically Carlisle was frozen at twenty-seven, but in reality he was much older than that. At three hundred and seventy-seven years old, he was practically a relic. "I finished my residency last year," he said, adding yet another lie.

Given his religious upbringing, Carlisle believed that lying was a sin. But as a vampire living amongst humans, it was simply the way of things. In order to conceal his secret, and protect his family, he had to lie. It was unavoidable.

At first, Bella seemed mildly confused. "That's pretty much the norm, though, isn't it?" As soon as these words left her mouth, Carlisle realized his blunder. "If you were a licenced doctor by the age of thirty, you couldn't have floundered for that long."

Unable to refute her observation, he sidestepped by adjusting the air vent. "Where are my manners. I forgot to ask if you were warm enough."

"I'm comfortable, thanks." When Bella's pulse quickened unexpectedly, her fingers clutching the seat in a white-knuckled grip, Carlisle followed her gaze straight to his speedometer, and realized he was speeding.

"Sorry." His smile turned sheepish. "I tend to drive a bit fast."

"A bit?" She gave a nervous laugh. "My dad might like and respect you, but if he ever sees you driving like this, I guarantee you're getting a ticket."

Delighted by her teasing, Carlisle eased up on the gas, and saw the tension leave her shoulders.

For the next few moments, Bella seemed content to stare out the passenger side window. As he watched her profile in silence, Carlisle found she looked rather cute today, all bundled up in her coat, her wavy hair framing the side of her face.

Outside the car, the weather was still gray, but the drizzle had ceased altogether. As Carlisle deactivated the wipers, Bella's voice broke through the relative quiet.

"I hear your family has a long history in the area."

Carlisle's defenses went up, his stone-like body tensing as he threw a sideways glance at her. "Who told you that?"

"Charlie says that the Quileutes knew one of your ancestors. A century ago or something."

Oh, this wasn't good. Not good at all. Even if her information was wrong, it was much too close for his liking. What were the Quileutes thinking?! Divulging information, even half-truths, to the Chief of Police was _not_ the way to protect their secret and honor the treaty.

Guessing that they had done so to explain their boycott of the hospital, Carlisle swallowed his displeasure, and tried to quell his worries.

_It'll be fine_. _It's a harmless misdirection._

But if Bella or Charlie started digging…

_They won't._ He was just being paranoid.

Left with no other choice, Carlisle went along with the Quileutes' fabricated story. "My great-grandfather lived in the area, yes. But only for a time." Seeing the lingering question in her eyes, he told her that he knew very little about him.

"I see." There was a pause, and then, "What was his name?"

"His name?" Carlisle's throat bobbed. He had to think fast. "Carlisle Cullen. I was named after him."

To his relief, Bella shifted to stare out the window. A minute or so later, Carlisle felt her eyes on him again.

"So, where are you from originally?"

This was easier. He was prepared for that question. "I spent my formative years in London, England. But I've lived in many places." That was actually the truth. Now for another lie. "My father moved around a lot."

"Ahh, well that explains it."

"Explains what?"

"Back when you were examining me at the hospital, we were talking and for a moment, I swear you sounded British." Bella was about to say more, but then her gaze darted past the windshield. "Charlie's house is just down the street. Over there on your left." Pointing, she told him it was the white one with the trees in front.

Relieved that their drive was at an end, Carlisle activated the turn signal, and pulled into the driveway. But as he helped with the groceries, carrying her bags inside, a part of him was saddened by the fact that he and Bella were about to part ways. Most likely for the last time.

"Just leave them on the counter," she instructed upon entering the kitchen.

Doing as she asked, Carlisle studied the space with a curious eye. Small and somewhat dated, the chief's home was clean and welcoming. Cozy seemed like a good word for it. When he spotted the old touch-tone phone on the wall, Carlisle's mouth twitched in nostalgic amusement. _Well, that brings back memories_. He and Rosalie had bought one just like it, back when they first came out. Except theirs had been white instead of pantyhose beige.

Turning toward Bella, Carlisle indicated the grocery bags. "Do you need help putting things away?"

"I'm pretty sure I can manage, but thank you. For this, and for giving me a lift."

"It was my pleasure."

"Um. I was going to make some tea. Do you want some?"

Carlisle waved a polite hand. "Thank you, but I really should be going."

"Right. Of course."

But neither of them moved at first. Instead, they just stood there. Remembering the promise he had made to himself, Carlisle eventually willed his feet to move. Seconds later, they were at the front door.

"I was nice to meet you, Isabella."

"It was nice to meet you, too, Dr. Cullen."

"Carlisle."

"Carlisle," she repeated.

Like him, Bella was still smiling, yet there was something in her gaze. Almost like she was sorry to see him go.

The moment stretched on. As the two shared a low chuckle, Bella fidgeted, while Carlisle fiddled with his car keys.

"Alright, well…" He indicated the door.

Reaching for the handle, Carlisle reminded her to take it easy. He had taken a step outside, and was bidding her a good night when he noted something, and came to a sudden halt.

The sky above their heads was still covered in clouds, but to his dismay, the western horizon had begun to clear. Though he and Bella were both shaded by the house, the same could not be said for his Mercedes. Because night had yet to fall, the sun hovered just over the horizon, casting warm orange light all around.

Trapped with nowhere to go, Carlisle panicked a little, at least on the inside. If he left the porch, and stepped out into the light, the refractive nature of his skin would betray him.

"Is something wrong? You look like you've seen a ghost."

Hiding his nervousness, Carlisle promptly gathered himself. And then he had an idea. "You know… on second thought, I think I will have that cup of tea."

"Yeah?" Her confusion was evident, but as he nodded, stating that tea would be lovely, her smiled broadened and she motioned toward the entryway. "Alright, well… come on in, then."

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**I guess our boy is stuck at the house for a little while longer. ;-)**

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	9. Chapter 9 - Shock

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**CHAPTER 9**

**SHOCK**

The water had reached its boiling point, and steam was puffing through the spout.

After dropping individual tea bags in each cup, Bella unplugged the whistling kettle and started pouring. With their teas now steeping, she then carried the cups out of the kitchen, passing via the yellow entryway to reach the living-room, where the good doctor was admiring the many pictures on display.

"Here we are," she told her guest, and placed their beverages on the coffee table. "Do you want anything in your tea? I have milk. Sugar or even honey."

With his scarf and leather jacket hanging over his arm, Carlisle turned to face her, and waved a polite hand. "Black tea is fine." As he spoke, Bella noted something different about the room. The lighting, to be more precise. For one thing, the lamp was on, and the west-facing windows were now shaded by Charlie's beige and brown curtains.

_Did Carlisle close the drapes?_

Slightly puzzled, Bella stole a glance at her guest, and soon reasoned that the setting sun might have bothered his eyes. After all, given the angle of the house, the westering sun could shine rather brightly in this room.

Her mind going back to those perplexing moments out on the front steps, Bella wondered what had prompted him to suddenly change his mind about staying. One moment, Carlisle had been wishing her a good night, and the next he had been taking her up on her previous offer of tea.

Setting the mystery aside, Bella checked the strength of her tea. Satisfied with the taste—she liked it on the weak side—she removed her tea bag, grabbed both cups, then rounded the coffee table to join her guest at the mantel.

When he accepted the proffered beverage, the warmth of his smile matched that of his caramel eyes. "Thank you kindly, Isabella."

Her mouth twitched. Thank you kindly?

Carlisle might be thirty-one, but his manners were that of someone far older. It was endearing—and a rare thing in this day and age—but it was also rather odd.

"Is something the matter?" the doctor asked when he noticed her lingering stare.

In order to conceal her blush, Bella busied herself by blowing on her tea. "No, why?"

"You seemed amused just now."

Emboldened by his lingering smile, Bella opted for honesty. "It's just… it's the way you talk sometimes. It's so polite and… old fashioned. Are you sure you weren't raised in the eighteen hundreds?"

His answering laughter was like windchimes, his beautiful face shining with such mirth, Bella found she couldn't look away.

"Can you keep a secret?" he asked, and pursed his lips.

At her nod, Carlisle leaned in a bit. "The year was nineteen ten. I was taking a leisurely walk on a dirt road behind my house when I stumbled upon a most unusual automobile. By the dust on the hood, I reckoned it'd been abandoned. Now being the inquisitive person that I am, I tested the door. It was unlocked. Then, I climbed in, tried several buttons, and took it for a spin. Imagine my shock when I realized it was a time machine." Now he watched her with mock-seriousness, his index finger rising to his mouth. "But shhh. You can't tell anyone. It might pollute the timeline."

Bella chortled at his "Back to the Future" reference_._ Choosing to play along, she schooled her features into a conspiratorial expression. "My lips are sealed, kind sir." But then, she narrowed her eyes. "Although, if you stole that DeLorean... I hate to break it to you, but the timeline is most assuredly ruined."

"Well, given where I ended up..." Now his eyes mapped her face. "I regret nothing."

She had to hand it to him; the guy was funny, and pretty damn sweet.

As their laughter tapered to a series of soft chuckles, Bella smirked and took a soothing sip of tea. Carlisle, for his part, turned to the mantel once more. "These are lovely pictures," he stated, then pointed at her graduation photo. "Your hair was longer then."

"Ahh, my younger days."

"You're only thirty, Bella. You're still young."

She gave a small laugh at that. "Thanks." But after the recent twists and turns in her life, she didn't feel all that young anymore.

"Nice graduation robe."

"Mustard yellow. Awesome color, right?" Staring at the fresh-faced version of herself, Bella went on. "I liked my long hair, but this is easier." In truth, she had grown rather fond of her shoulder-length do.

Though he made no reply, the look on Carlisle's face suggested that he rather liked her current style.

He indicated another picture. "I gather this is your mother?"

Bella's smile turned wistful. "Yes. Her name was Renée. She died a few years ago."

"Charlie told me. I was sorry to hear about your loss." The two of them stared at the picture, the relative stillness underscored by the ticking of a clock, until Carlisle spoke again. "She had a lovely smile."

"Uber pretty." Her heart swimming in reminiscence, Bella ran her fingertips along the edge of the frame. "When I was little, I remember whining and crying because I wanted dimples just like hers." Soft laughter rose in her throat, then her chest swelled on a drawn-out sigh. "If my mother was one thing, she was full of life. She was all over the place, but whenever she would find a new interest or hobby, her face would light up. Brighter than the Vegas Strip. As flighty as she was, I admired that about her. That emotional honesty and unbridled zest for life."

A series of memories surfaced just then. Like a film reel in her mind, Bella recalled her many birthdays, all those road-trips, and the crazy blanket her mother had made out of their touristy t-shirts.

"Even if my childhood wasn't perfect, even if I had to grow up way too fast, helping my mother with everyday things like cooking and cleaning, doing the groceries, even reminding her to pay the bills… Even with all that, I have loving memories of her. We had fun." Bella's fingers lingered on the image for a beat longer. Then, she allowed her hand to fall. "Sometimes, I wish I could go back. Just for a day, for an hour, even a measly minute. Just to have a chance to hear her voice, her laughter. I really miss her."

"It's good that you have all of those memories," Carlisle said, then added. "I never knew my mother."

Her brows creased slightly. Bella looked sidelong at him.

Seeing the unspoken question on her face, he explained that his mother had died shortly after giving birth to him. "I don't even know what she looked like."

"You mean no pictures? Nothing?"

"No." The ensuing pause seemed more like a hesitation. "My father misplaced our albums and home movies when we moved to the states."

"Wow, that's… that's really sad."

His lashes lowered for a moment, his voice scarcely above a murmur when he said, "Like everything else in life, we can't always choose the cards that we are given." His attention shifting to the coffee table, Carlisle indicated the old album beside an empty picture frame. His features set in genuine curiosity, he asked if she'd meant to add a picture on Charlie's mantel.

"I was making a trade actually, swapping a painful memory for a better one." Being a private person, Bella would have normally left it at that. But as Carlisle waited to hear more, something prompted her to near the coffee table, where she reached for a downward facing picture—the one she had removed from its frame mere minutes before Charlie had burnt their dinner and offered to take her out to eat.

Turning the picture over, Bella stared at it for a moment before showing it to Carlisle.

"The man who came to visit you at the hospital," he said.

Bella's jaded heart grew heavy. Hiding her pain beneath a bland expression, she set the picture aside, and went to sit on the sofa. "His name is Evan Miller. I was with him for three years."

A slight crease forming between his brows, Carlisle came to sit beside her. "So you're separated."

Bella replied by way of a nod.

"We'd been having problems for a while, but recently I learned that he had been cheating on me with a woman he works with. Long story short, I ended it, and he's in the process of moving out as we speak."

Carlisle was silent for a moment. His expression was really hard to gauge. "That couldn't have been easy."

"I admit, it was like a kick in the teeth at first, but it's okay. At least now I know the truth. The guy is a lying piece of… dirt." Bella had been about to say "shit", but Carlisle was always so polite, it almost seemed wrong to swear around him. But then again, being a doctor, he must have been used to it, had probably heard every curse word in the book.

"I'm sorry," she said, laughing even as she pinched the bridge of her nose. "We barely know each other, and yet here I am, unloading my romantic woes on you."

"You never need to apologize for that." A pause ensued, like he was waiting for her to meet his eyes. She did.

"I mean it, Bella. We all have our burdens. Sometimes, talking can lighten the load."

Bella appreciated that, more than she cared to admit.

"Besides," he added, and set his cup on the coffee table. Elbows resting on his knees, he toyed with his ring, then looked to her again. "I seem to recall a similar moment when our roles were reversed. The night we sat outside the hospital."

Bella remembered it well. Carlisle had lost a patient on the operating table that day.

"I knew you even less back then," he went on to say. "Still, I opened up and you listened. Words cannot express how much it meant to me."

Something passed between them just then, a moment of undefinable connection that caught her unawares.

A beat went by. Then Carlisle looked away. Unless Bella was mistaken, regret seemed to pass over his features. There was a subtle air of loneliness about him, making her wonder. Who was he really? Was his life happy or as much a mess as her own?

Suddenly yearning to know, Bella was about to ask if there was a Mrs. Cullen somewhere. Before the words could form, however, Carlisle's attention snagged on yet another item on the cluttered coffee table, one that was partly hidden by Charlie's newspaper. Her dog-eared copy of Troilus and Criseyde.

Wordlessly, he reached for the book, and studied the cover. As Bella observed his face, his mouth curved on one side, just a little.

"For everything that happens, happens by necessity: thus, it is my destiny to be lost. For certainly, I know this well, that foresight of divine providence has always seen that I would lose Criseyde, since God sees all things, without doubt, and through his decree disposes them truly according to their deserts, as they shall come to pass by predestination."

Bella's mouth was agape, her blinking stare trained on his lamplit face. "You know Chaucer?" Belatedly, she realized the stupidity of her question. Of course, he knew Chaucer. He'd just quoted him, word for word, in a tone laced with quiet appreciation.

"Well, he is the father of English poetry," he stated simply, extending the book so she could take it.

Bella's amazement was such that her brain was lagging behind. Carlisle couldn't possibly be real. This kind, thoughtful, and talented doctor was a fellow book nerd? Seriously, this could be the start of a beautiful friendship—that is, if she ever saw him again.

And so it was that she forgot her troubles for much of the evening. As they conversed, essentially geeking out over their favorite books and authors, all thoughts of Evan fell to the very back of her mind. The distraction was refreshing, more than welcome. But like the saying went—a saying whose source was the very book that was clasped in her hand—all good things must come to an end.

"Forgive me," Carlisle said when he realized how late it was. Night had already fallen at this point. A glance at the clock told Bella it was after ten.

"It would seem that I lost track of time, and stayed longer than I should." Grabbing both their cups, he started to rise.

"Don't be silly. This was nice."

"Yes, but you still need your rest. As a doctor, I should have remembered that."

As Carlisle carried their cups in the kitchen, Bella plucked his jacket and scarf from the arm of the couch. The leather was smooth and supple, the scarf oh so soft against her hand. When she rounded the stairs, and caught sight of Carlisle, he was pouring tea in the sink. She hadn't noticed, until then, that his cup had been nearly full. Come to think of it, did he drink at all?

Thinking that the tea might have been too strong for his liking, Bella leaned on the door jam, and watched as he discarded his tea bag, and rinsed both cups. Once Carlisle had retraced his steps, his expression warming in tandem with hers, she held out his jacket and scarf. "Don't forget these."

Relieving her of the items, Carlisle watched her watch him. The moment had finally arrived. For the second time that night, it was time to say goodbye.

"Thank you for tonight," she said, running her palm over her left sleeve. "I know you feel bad about staying late, but I've been cooped up for so long, it was good to have someone to laugh and talk with."

Carlisle seemed glad to hear it. Quietly, he said, "Spending time with you was a joy, Isabella." He had reverted to using her full name again. He was the only one who did.

As he fiddled with his baby blue tie, Carlisle tucked his chin, robbing her of the sight of his eyes. A heartbeat or two later, when their gazes reconnected, he took a step back, and she was sorry to see him go.

"I'll walk you out," she said.

Flicking on the porch light, Bella followed as he stepped out into the night. Having reached the bottom of the cement steps, she stopped by the hedges, watching as Carlisle closed the distance to his Mercedes.

With a press of a button, he deactivated the alarm, and opened the car door. In lieu of entering the vehicle, he merely stood there, one hand braced on the roof of his car, while the other rested over the door. His head falling forward, Carlisle appeared to be chewing his lip.

The moment stretched on. Then, he met her eyes again. "Take care of yourself, Bella." Though his regret was evident, a teasing glimmer flashed across his handsome face. "And if you can, avoid those bear crossings."

A shy, breathy laugh as her response, she waved to him, and he waved to her. "Will do, doc... See you around."

His smile held a note of sadness. Softly, he mirrored her words. "See you around."

Wavering in indecision, Bella took a step backward, and considered calling to him, to ask if they could exchange numbers or something. To keep in touch, she reasoned. Maybe they could grab a coffee at the diner next time she was in town. Or then maybe he could call her up if ever he had business in Seattle. Before she could follow through, the sole of her sneaker snagged on something. A crack in the cement perhaps. That or she had tripped on her own shoe.

Whatever the cause, Bella felt herself falling backward, her outstretched hands clawing at empty air. As cliché as it was, her awareness narrowed to the point of tunnel vision. All she could see was a starless sky framed by fluttering tendrils of hair.

As her tumble unfurled in slow motion, Bella knew that the porch was right there, and that her skull might be about to crack like an egg on the corner of that first step.

That would be her luck. Surviving a car accident only to smash her head on something as mundane as Charlie's front steps. Helpless to stop her fall, Bella clenched her teeth, her entire body bracing for the blinding pain that was sure to follow.

Only there was no pain. Instead, the weirdest fucking thing happened.

A sudden gust of wind swirled around her body, strong enough that her ears actually caught a _whoosh _of air.

Her heart in her throat, Bella stared at the sky without blinking. This made no sense. Something had stopped her momentum, like a bungee jumping harness appearing from thin air.

Except, it wasn't a harness. And her body didn't rebound.

Her panting breaths echoing over her racing pulse, Bella turned her face just enough to see a golden head of hair. Carlisle. Carlisle, who had been standing over by his car, a good fifteen feet away, was now clutching her body, holding her head and shoulders a few inches off the ground.

Outside of logic or comprehension, his right arm was now locked around her ribcage, his left hand supporting the back of her head. Like a lover's embrace almost. Only instead of being heady and wonderful, the ensuing seconds were tainted by a distressing realization.

By order of strangeness, these were the things Bella noticed. Carlisle's hand. His hand was incredibly cold. Freezing. But even more unsettling was the coldness of his cheek, pressed against her own.

Their bodies faintly illuminated by the porch light, they remained as they were. Two stock-still figures, locked in place like marble statues. No sooner had the comparison entered her mind than another realization clicked into place.

As nervous tremors shot up and down her spine, raising the hairs at the back of her neck, Bella took note of her hands—where they were and what she felt beneath them.

Even through the dual layers of his cardigan and shirt, Carlisle's flesh seemed unnaturally hard. What should have been warm muscle felt more like stone.

Bella couldn't process it; her brain was misfiring. These sensations were all wrong, his body temperature akin to that of a corpse. She must have hit her head after all, suffering neurological damage in the process_._ She was seeing and feeling things that weren't there.

But then he spoke, and his tremulous whisper busted that bubble, dragging her back to this new and freakish reality. "Are you okay?" he asked.

This was real. _Oh no._ _No, no, no._

And it only got worse.

When he had spoken just now, Carlisle had drawn a breath. A single inhalation, his first since breaking her fall. For whatever reason, that action had an immediate and frightening effect on him.

Carlisle shuddered, then his shoulders jerked inwards.

What happened next shook Bella to the core.

As he trembled above her, a sound reached her ears. A low and feral grumbling that originated from deep within his chest.

A growl.

Carlisle was growling, his nose hungrily grazing the exposed column of her neck.

She should have been screaming, but couldn't. She should have been fighting to get away from him, but didn't. This was Carlisle. _Carlisle!_ Dr. Cullen. The guy who had carried her groceries, and charmed her by quoting Chaucer.

_Can't process. Can't process. _

Like a covetous beast roused from a long slumber, Carlisle had caged her body to his. Desperate to snap him out of it**, **Bella turned her face just enough to catch his profile. "Ca...Carlisle?" Her petrified voice sounded all too weak to her ears. Yet somehow it reached him.

The growling stopped at once. After a second or two, his hold loosened by a fraction. Bathed in semi-darkness, Carlisle's face was angled downward, his body coiled with a tension she couldn't comprehend.

Shaking in the weakening prison of his arms, Bella caught a fleeting glimpse of his eyes, and what she saw…

_Oh, fuck me..._

Instead of soothing caramel, his irises were black. Not dark brown. Black, black. Like a tar pit.

Carlisle shook his head, like he was trying to break whatever had gotten hold of him.

"Bella?" Shame, terror, disbelief. Bella saw all of those things, flickering one after the other on his preternatural face.

When those warring emotions ceded to concern, a change came over him. Carlisle immediately went in doctor mode. Widening the space between them, he turned his full focus on her, his assessing gaze rapidly sweeping her up and down. For reasons she couldn't understand, Carlisle cocked his head, and closed his eyes, as though he was listening for something. As if that wasn't strange enough, he actually sniffed the air a few times. "You're alright," he declared, blowing a breath as he raked a nervous hand through his hair. "You're alright."

Bella was half-sitting, half-lying on the ground. Frozen by what she had felt and seen just now, she watched, wide-eyed, as Carlisle backed away even more, crawling on shaking hands and knees until he managed to gain his feet.

The shame had returned, but now it was mixed with anguish. As he turned and staggered toward his Mercedes, Bella rose on wobbly legs, and watched as he slammed the car door. The engine turned, and the headlights came on, blinding her.

Before her mind could fully catch up, Carlisle had placed the car in reverse and was swerving out of the driveway. After slamming on the breaks, he put the vehicle in drive. The tires spewed gravel as the Mercedes sped away. Eyes on his tail-lights, Bella took a few steps forward, ignoring the jacket and scarf that he had dropped and left on the ground.

Bella was in the middle of the road, unable to look away from the fleeing vehicle. Alone in the night, she wrapped her arms around herself, and acknowledged her ordeal with the only words she could think of.

"Holy shit."

* * *

This was going to be a long night, the case so baffling and troubling, Charlie didn't know what to think.

Hours after he had been flagged by the store manager, he stood behind the Thriftway. Having called additional units, he swept his flashlight along the tree line for what seemed the hundredth time.

"Over here, Chief," one of his officers—a woman named Grace Murphy—shouted from a distance.

As he hurried on over, Charlie reflected on what he knew so far.

What should have been a standard vandalism case was anything but.

"_What the hell…_" Those had been the store manager's words, when the two had first reviewed the surveillance tape.

Like a movie burned into his mind, Charlie recalled how the hoodie-clad kid had spray painted the back of the Thriftway. By his height and build, he had guessed his age to be around seventeen, maybe eighteen. Whether he had acted on a dare or with a genuine interest in the street art known as tagging, Charlie didn't know yet. For now, it wasn't important.

As things now stood, the mischievous doodles had fallen to the very bottom of his list of priorities.

His thoughts going back to that tape, Charlie remembered the moment the kid had put away his spray paint and shouldered his backpack. Looking to make sure no one was around, he had jogged out of the frame only to reappear moments later. A fleeting glimpse if ever there was one. Yet in that briefest of instants, Charlie had noted two things. His jog had turned into an all-out run. _Toward_ the store, rather than away from it.

His features concealed by his hood, the kid had been looking over his shoulder, like someone had been chasing him. Much to Charlie's dismay, he had barely made it into the frame when something had seized his backpack, pulling with such force that the kid's feet had lifted off the ground.

And that'd been it. He'd disappeared from the screen just like that.

"What have you got?" Charlie asked as he neared the edge of the tree line.

"Tracks," Officer Murphy answered, her flashlight directed at the muddy ground. "Drag marks by the looks of it."

Coming to stand beside the redhead, Charlie studied the sweeping patterns with a frown. "Yeah, that's not good."

Venturing into the misty woods with their guns drawn, they preserved the tracks by walking alongside them.

Treading through withering ferns, Officer Murphy surveyed the path with disquiet. "Whoever was dragged in here,"—right now, Charlie's best guess was the kid—"looks like he or she put up quite a fight."

For nearly ten minutes they walked. First, they found a sneaker. Then a can of blue spray paint. But as they came upon a towering pine, the tracks came to a sudden and perplexing end. Sweeping their flashlights up the length of the tree, the officers searched the trunk and branches.

Seeing nothing, Charlie heaved a troubled sigh.

"What do you think, Chief? Could the kid have been dragged up there by a bear?"

"That or a mountain lion maybe." No matter the culprit, this was damn strange. Damn strange indeed.

Deeply perturbed, Charlie fetched his cell from his coat pocket.

"Are you calling the forest rangers?"

A nod as his answer, he searched through his contacts until he found the number in question. Pressing on the screen, Charlie waited. It rang once, twice. Midway through the third ring, a guy answered. Charlie immediately knew who it was.

"McCarty. Charlie Swan here. I'm sorry to bother you, but we're investigating a possible disappearance in the woods behind a grocery store in Forks. I'm not quite sure what I'm looking at just yet, but I think… I think we may have a problem out here."

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**Thanks for reading! Reviews are much appreciated. Favs and follows are cool, too. **


	10. Chapter 10 - Beasts in the Night

**As always, thanks go out to all my readers. With a special shout-out going to those who left reviews on the last chapter. **

**Goldielover, kouga's older woman, catgrl, zazyl, TheBlueWilderness, Ruiniel, Guest, and nickaroos. THANK YOU!**

**The musical mood setter for this one is a song called "Again" by Archive.**

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**CHAPTER 10**

**BEASTS IN THE NIGHT**

Carlisle could see her in the rear-view mirror, dazedly staring at his back window as he drove hell-for-leather down the road.

Anguished by the fear and confusion in Bella's rounded eyes, he seized a handful of his already messy hair, and kept on driving.

_Heaven help me, what have I done?_

If he hadn't pushed his luck tonight, if he had left her house as soon as the sun had disappeared beyond the horizon, as he had meant to, none of this would have happened.

Only it did happen, for the reason that he had been greedy in the end. For the reason that he was a lonely and selfish man.

Putting pedal to the metal, Carlisle had to look away from Bella's dwindling reflection. Even from a distance, through a mirror she couldn't even see, Carlisle was too ashamed to meet the varying emotions on her now bloodless face.

His Mercedes accelerated under the weight of his foot. The needle on the speedometer continued to rise. In four point six seconds, the purr of the engine transitioned to an expensive growl.

"A growl…" Carlisle huffed a bitter laugh, and would have cried if he could.

_You growled at her, you jackass!_ Worse yet, he had sniffed her neck like she was filet mignon.

Why did he do it? _Why did you have to speak and take that breath? _Asking if she was okay while his face was pressed to her neck!

Hand gripping the nappa leather of his steering wheel, Carlisle sped through the sleepy town without really seeing it. At 155mph, he was the fastest thing on the road. But as fast as many would deem his luxury car to be, for him it wasn't fast enough. Not even close. How could it be when there was no escaping what he had done?

Carlisle had broken his most agonizing rule tonight. When human eyes were watching, the ruse _had_ to be maintained, no matter the personal cost.

As a doctor, his patients and peers expected him to give one hundred percent of himself, to do his best at all times. If only they knew the truth.

At the hospital, when there was a code blue, Carlisle had to waste precious time by running at a normal human pace. When he was operating on a trauma patient, laboring to repair broken veins and arteries, his fingers could work no faster than the upper limit of human skill and speed. As excellent as the other doctors gauged his work to be, Carlisle knew the appalling truth. That he could work a hundred times faster if he wished, if he could.

For a doctor, it was a heavy cross to bear. And yet, Carlisle bore it by necessity, for the safety of his coven, his family.

Cement step or not, when Isabella had tripped tonight, he should have held back, rendering aid in the aftermath, like a human doctor would have done.

Instead, he had revealed his nature by hastening to catch her in time. The ruse. His secret. In that one defining moment, none of it had mattered. All he had wanted was for her to be okay.

On either side of him, houses and businesses gradually yielded to wilderness. As he drove past the city limits, leaving the last street light behind, Carlisle continued in the misty night. His eyes seeing much farther than his high-performance headlamps, he soon spotted the end of his driveway.

Once he started up the long winding drive, Carlisle flattened the pedal once more. Because he was driving faster than he normally would, he lowered his sun visor well before he saw the house, and pressed the garage door opener the second he was in range.

Owing to his current state of mind, he misjudged the timing.

He was coming in too hot, and the garage door was only partly opened. To avoid smashing into his house, Carlisle slammed on the breaks, and turned the steering wheel.

Tires dragged on gravel. His Mercedes was swerving like the cars in Tokyo Drift.

In the end, he came to a stop just shy of his front steps, his headlamps angled toward the corner of the house.

Trapped by shame, Carlisle only sat there, while the garage door slowly opened the rest of the way.

"_If you can, avoid those bear crossings_," he had told Bella before leaving.

As her breathy laugh resurfaced in his mind, Carlisle remembered her cute little smile. "_Will do, doc_."

He'd enjoyed her company so much, he had found it hard to leave.

If he had left at dusk, if he hadn't lingered by his car, would Bella have tripped? He squeezed the bridge of his nose. Too many scenarios. Too many "what ifs".

_What's done is done. _Now for the consequences.

By her reaction, Carlisle could tell that Bella knew. That she had seen and felt his otherness tonight.

Barely a year into their new life, he and Rosalie might have to pack up and leave, fleeing before word of his strangeness started spreading about the town.

But would she do it? Would Bella say anything? For now, he couldn't be sure, and the uncertainty was chewing a hole in him.

His thoughts turning to his companion, Carlisle shuddered to think of her reaction. There was not a shred of doubt in his mind; Rosalie was going to be furious when she learned of this, of the selfish risks he had been taking, risks that threatened her, too.

The lights were on, but she didn't seem to be home. If she was, she would have exited the house by now, to see what was going on—why he was sitting alone out here, and why he had nearly crashed through the entryway just now.

Suddenly grateful for her absence, Carlisle looked to the garage. Her empty parking space confirmed that she had taken her red BMW out for a spin.

"_Ca… Carlisle?_" The fear in Bella's lowered voice echoed with perfect clarity in his head, hauling him back to those dreadful moments when he had nuzzled her neck and growled. Just the look on her face when he had finally snapped out of it…

Carlisle had never been one to use foul language, but he did so now. "Shit. Shit, shit, shit."

His fingers nervously tapping the steering wheel, he shut his eyes, and breathed in hopes that it would calm his frazzled nerves. It didn't. His anxiety crested. Now he beat his forehead against the wheel's twelve o'clock position. Forgetting his strength, he expressed his mounting frustration without thinking.

The side of his fist collided with the center of the steering wheel. Bits of metal, leather, and plastic flew in every direction.

His mouth hanging open, Carlisle loosened his fist and stared through the hovering dust. This one careless act had not only destroyed his speedometer and steering wheel, it had also wrecked the entire steering column. Given the radiating force of the impact, he knew there would be deeper damage, too.

His broken radio sparked and sizzled, then the engine sputtered and died. With the smell of burning plastic assailing his nostrils, Carlisle surveyed the shattered interior, and knew there'd be no saving it. He had destroyed his car.

With trembling hands, he pulled on the door handle, and numbly exited the vehicle. His thoughts shooting back to Bella, he forgot all about his ruined Mercedes. As he turned in the direction where Charlie's house would be, he wondered what he was going to do now. To be sure, he had made a colossal mess of things.

Recalling Bella's tormenting scent, Carlisle brought a hand to his windpipe, the burning in his throat so incredibly painful, he knew he had to feed.

And so he took off at a run, flying through the woods like a hound of hell.

Ferns and saplings broke as he ran through them. As the sickle moon appeared through a gap in the clouds, he followed his nose, deeper and deeper into the night-clad forest. Wisps of fog snaked around the trees, and the soggy ground rose and fell beneath his feet. With a specific prey in mind, Carlisle breezed right past a mountain lion, then straight through a stunned herd of deer.

There was a small fire up ahead, a remote camp site off a nearly forgotten trail. Judging by the small chorus of heartbeats, there were three campers in that camp. One in a tent, the other two sitting in the light of their fire.

Knowing that the campers wouldn't see him, that he'd be nothing but a blur to their eyes, Carlisle didn't veer to the side like he normally would. He ran in a straight line.

"Whoa, did you feel that?" One of the campers said as he sped by.

"Yeah. What the hell?" the second camper replied, hand rising to smooth her wind-ruffled hair. "That gust came out of nowhere."

Driven by purpose, Carlisle left the humans, and made toward a remote section of Olympic National Park. His pale skin swathed in dim moonlight, he sniffed the air and finally located the prey he wanted, the prey he craved tonight.

The grizzly was lumbering in a secluded meadow tucked in the shadow of Mount Skokomish. A male by the looks of it, it must have weighed six hundred pounds.

While most of his human memories had faded over time, Carlisle retained enough to remember parts of his childhood. His father had been a very strict man, and there had been many rules in his house, one of which had been _not_ to play with his food. It was a rule Carlisle lived by to this day. When he hunted, he always went for an immediate kill, or near to it.

Not tonight, though.

While he was careful not to injure the bear, Carlisle startled it by ruffling its fur. This immediately enraged the animal.

As the grizzly growled and rose on its hind legs, Carlisle adopted an aggressive pose. Panting through gritted teeth, he provoked the animal just by staring at it. "Come on,_"_ he encouraged with a devious grin. _Lunge, bite, swipe your paw at me. You can do it. _

The grizzly obliged.

In a reversal of predatory roles, Carlisle offered no resistance. Hands fisting into the bear's fur, he yielded as the grizzly tackled him to the ground, biting into his cardigan and shoulder with vicious jerks and pulls.

But Carlisle felt no pain—not in the physical sense. His skin was much too tough for that, his bones unbreakable.

"_His name's Evan Miller_." When Bella had opened up about her cheating ex, Carlisle had been hit by such a sense of wonder. Of course, he had been saddened by the muted hurt on her face, by how difficult this must be for her. But the level of trust she had placed in him had surprised and delighted his lonely soul.

No sooner had the memory come and gone than Carlisle lamented the emptiness to come. Given what had happened in Charlie's driveway, it seemed safe to assume that there would be no more talks on the sofa.

Every once in a while, when it seemed the grizzly was about to give up, Carlisle would escape its grip to frustrate the animal even more. It was a supernatural freak show, a sad wrestling match between beast and stronger beast. Only the first opponent had no idea it was the weaker one. If anyone were to see him now—a town doctor grappling with a trophy-sized grizzly bear as a way to purge his pain—they would think themselves in a messed-up version of Bizarro World.

Carlisle's back collided with the ground again. As the bear dragged him over the grass like a rag doll, he saw its incoming paw, the claws that dragged across his face, from his left temple to the right side of his mouth. If Carlisle had been human, he wouldn't have had a face right now. As it was, his undamaged features were aimed toward the inky sky.

Even as he held to the bear, his fingers embedded in the underfur, a feeling of lethargy settled onto him, his mind plagued with what had happened earlier in the night.

The sound of ripping fabric underscored his musings. With closing eyes, Carlisle willingly endured the grizzly's violence.

Regret. He was drowning in it. Regret stemming not from his decision to stop Isabella's fall, but from what had transpired afterward.

Sniffing along her jugular and growling against her neck… Clutching her body to his chest like she had been his! _Dear God_...

Carlisle shook his head, his mouth twisting in self-loathing. _Oh, the things that must be going through her head. _Surely, Isabella would be quite shaken. Frightened.

His vision obscured by a viscous layer of venom tears, Carlisle loosed a breath that might have been a sob. If only he could cry.

The idea that she might see him as a monster wounded him like teeth never could.

Carlisle might be a beast in fair form, but he wasn't an animal. He wouldn't have hurt her. Never. But the desire to have and claim her? Oh, he had most certainly felt those things. And he'd shocked and scared the hell out of her in the process—this kind and fascinating human. A woman blessed with warm flesh and literal life.

Unlike him, Isabella dwelt in a world of friendship and sunlight, where she was free to exist without having to hide.

His shirt and cardigan were shredded at this point. He had even lost his tie. As the grizzly tried to bite into his neck—how fitting, he thought—Carlisle stared up at the sky and started laughing. It was a bitter, agonized laugh, one that echoed over the foothills like a despairing prayer to God.

The burn in his throat intensified. His laughter tapering into silence, Carlisle sobered and looked to the bear once more. No longer willing to torment his prey, he tightened his hold on the animal. In a blinding motion, he twisted and broke its neck.

Alone in the miserable night, he fed.

* * *

**Well, I've gone and done it; I killed Carlisle's Mercedes. Technically, he did it, but I'll take the blame. After all, I'm the puppet master of this drawn-out plot bunny of mine. **

**For those who are still reading this, thank you for embarking on this crazy journey with me.**

**Reviews are writing fuel. Favs and follows are cool, too. ;-)**


	11. Chapter 11 - The Search for Answers

**To all who are reading this, I wish to thank you for your continued interest in my alternate canon story.**

**To the amazing peeps who left reviews on chapter 10: catgrl, Goldielover, Tobiramamara, Guest, Guest, Ruiniel, kouga's older woman, and Sassyass7515. Your feedback was very much appreciated.**

**Because t****his is a stressful week, I've been stress writing lol. For good or ill, this is the result. **

**The musical mood setter for this chapter is "In the Middle of the Night" by Still Corners.**

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**CHAPTER 11**

**THE SEARCH FOR ANSWERS**

The pack left the reservation under cover of night, three large wolves snarling and baring their teeth as they bounded through the forest to see if the rumors were true.

Barely fifteen minutes ago, Jacob and Embry had been in Billy's modest garage, repairing Bella's car, when Sam had burst through the doors to tell them what was being said on social media, that someone had been snatched by the Thriftway earlier in the night. "_Police haven't confirmed anything yet. __But some are saying it might be an animal that did it_."

Jacob had dropped his socket wrench at these words, his jaw flexing as he'd cast a look at Embry. With an alternate explanation already forming in his mind, Jacob had closed the hood, and wiped his hands with a rag. "_That or a blood-sucking leech,_" he had said, voicing what they were all thinking.

And so they had phased into wolf form and were now venturing outside of their own territory, to see and smell it for themselves.

_The Cullens have been laying low since they moved here. _Embry Call's voice sounded through the pack's telepathic bond, the words blending with the swift patter of paws as they sped through the forest. _You guys think they might have tired of their animal diet?_

Glancing at his best friend, Jacob caught the sleekness of his form, and the shine of his coat—gray with black spots. Loyal to a fault, Embry always stayed close to his Alpha, and for that reason, Jacob and Sam often referred to him as "wingman".

_If they did, they picked the wrong place to do it, _Jacob replied, then glanced at Sam, who was running with lethal determination, his black fur made even darker by the night.

Quiet as a shadow, Sam Uley's wolf form was as tall as a horse, but more muscular, with dagger-like incisors and dark blue eyes. As big as he was, however, he was not the largest in the pack. Jacob was.

Jacob whose fur was reddish brown.

Jacob who had been the first to phase, and consequently was now the leader of the pack. The Alpha. Just like his great-grandfather before him.

When the change had first occurred, he had been greatly frightened by his magical inheritance, which he had previously believed to be nothing but a myth. But after his dad, Old Quil, and Harry Clearwater had invited him to a council meeting, explaining that they knew what had happened to him, that they had recognized the signs, Jacob had learned that some of their tribe members had the power to transform into werewolves, and that vampires were not monsters of legend, but were, in fact, very real. And they were here, two of them maintaining a residence not far from the reservation.

Aware that one of the blood-sucking monsters was a medical doctor in town, the elders had soon cautioned the tribe against frequenting Forks General. Because the Quileute's supernatural secret was only known to select members of the tribe, an old feud had been given as the reason. According to the lie, Dr. Cullen's ancestor had misled and robbed the Quileutes through a string of shady business deals. Adding another layer to the smoke screen, the elders had said that he had illegally bought a section of land that had previously belonged to the Quileutes. Sacred land, that the elder Cullen had desecrated in the name of development.

In the midst of this false but realistic explanation, the elders had woven actual truth within the lie—a truth many dismissed as superstition. In a general tribal meeting, the elders had hinted that the Cullens were counted among the Cold Ones, the natural enemy of the spirit warriors who had first transformed into wolves all those centuries ago.

Though the younger generations had mostly chuckled at the claim, the same could not be said for the elderly residents of La Push. Having heard the same warnings years and years ago—after Ephraim Black, Levi Uley, and Quil Ateara II had phased in the late 1930s—they had recognized the truth of the situation. The Olympic coven had returned.

_And so we bear the torch_, Jacob thought as he ran. While he was the genetic heir to the role of Alpha, he hadn't exactly welcomed the responsibility. But having phased before the others—his wolf gene complex triggered by the Cullens' return—he'd had little choice but to accept the role in the end, to teach and guide the others when it was their turn to phase.

Sam had been the second. Embry a surprising third. Surprising for the reason that his mother was descended from the Makah tribe. Since shape-shifting traits were inherited only within certain Quileute bloodlines, it was widely speculated that Embry was Joshua Uley's son, Sam's deadbeat father. Of course, Jacob knew there were two other candidates, his own father included. But because Billy Black and Quil Ateara IV had been happily married at the time of Embry's conception, they all found it easier to think that he was Joshua's son.

Regardless of who had fathered him, Embry was now part of the pack. Brothers they all were. And together they patrolled the perimeter of their territory, always on the lookout for the immortal blood-suckers they despised. Tonight, instead of a routine patrol, they were on a quest for answers, their plate-sized paws leading them away from La Push, closer and closer into town.

Because their eyes and ears were so keen, the wolves caught the sound of search dogs, and the red and blue glow of police lights long before a human would have.

_So, the rumors were true_, Sam thought over the mental bond. _Something happened here tonight_.

_Careful they don't see you_, Jacob warned the others before taking the point toward a wooded ridge that overlooked the scene.

Keeping to the shadowy ferns, the wolves crouched and watched as police scoured the area for clues. Barking echoed in the night, and flashlights swept through the misty darkness.

_Charlie Swan's here_, Sam supplied at the same time Jacob spotted him.

Except for his police jacket and tool belt, his father's best friend was dressed in civilian clothing, indicating that he had been off-duty when he'd arrived. Even at a distance, Jacob could clearly see how disquieted he was. His brows were pulled in a frown, his graying mustache following the slanted line of his mouth.

_Who's the giant dude? The one talking to Charlie,_ Embry asked from his spying position, behind a moss-covered boulder.

_Never seen him_, was Jacob's answer. _By his uniform, I'd say he's a forest ranger_.

The guy looked to be on the underside of thirty. According to the yellow stitching on his green jacket, his name was _E. McCarty_.

Being well suited to the dark, the wolves could clearly see the blue of his eyes, and the shade of his short hair—a glossy brown so dark it bordered on black. At around 6'5", the guy was a giant compared to Charlie's paunch-bellied six-foot frame.

"Theoretically, it could be a bear or a mountain lion," he was saying to the Chief of Police. "But I don't know. The way the trail ends, as though the guy just vanished up that tree…" The ranger gave a rapid shake of his head. Heaving a puzzled breath, he added, "Once you've gone over your initial search grid, if you haven't found anything, my guys can have a look around the area if you want. If we find animal tracks, scat, fur, or anything that points to a possible case of predation, then maybe we'll know what we're looking at here."

Charlie scrubbed a hand over his tired face. At his nod, Officer McCarty went on. "But you were right when you said this is damn strange. I'm at a loss."

Now Charlie extended his hand, and the ranger took it. "Well, I appreciate the help, Emmett."

"Anything to lend a hand, chief."

_I bet you twenty bucks he's on the juice. _Embry nudged his grey snout in the ranger's direction. _Look at him. His shoulders are bigger than ours_. And shape-shifters were well-built in their human forms.

Because the wind was at their backs, the wolves hadn't caught a scent yet. To remedy the situation, the pack stole away in a wide arc. Down and around they crept, keeping well away from the officers as they moved toward the western side of the scene.

_Wait, do you smell that?_ Sam said as the wind granted them a most revolting yet galvanizing clue. The area reeked of—

_Vamp stink_, Sam said as their hackles went up. The three of them were snarling in anger at this point, their growls too low for the cops to hear.

_What do you think, Jake?_ Sam asked his Alpha, his reflective eyes shining in the dark. _Could it be one of the Cullens?_

Although he bore no love for the Olympic coven, Jacob already knew it wasn't them. Incensed by the fact that another dirty leech was prowling the area, he said, _Remember the time we met with Dr. Fang in the parking lot of the hospital? His stench was different. Whoever was prowling out here, it wasn't him_.

_The guy doesn't live alone, though_, Embry chimed in. _What about the other one who lives with him? That blond chick. I've never seen her myself but_—"

_I have_, Jacob cut in, and stared hard at the scene. _A few months ago, at a gas station. It's not her. Her stink doesn't match_.

Now Sam addressed Jacob. _When the Cullens first trespassed on our lands, back in our great-grandfathers' day, wasn't there a third one? With bronze hair. I haven't seen him around. Maybe it's him._

_They'll be in for a rude awakening if it is. If one of them so much as nicks a human, the treaty's dead_. _For now, all we can do is sniff out these woods. With a bit of luck, the scent trail will lead us to whoever was on the prowl tonight_.

_And if the leech is long gone?_

Turning, Jacob bounded into the shadowy woods. _The Cullens get a visit either way._ _Fan out, _he commanded._ Let's find whoever's out there_.

* * *

It was nearly two in the morning, and Bella hadn't gone to bed yet. She was much too wired for that. Earlier that evening, in a moment that was now seared in her memory, her understanding of the world had toppled end over end, and there was no going back.

In school, Bella had learned that planet Earth was home to trillions of organisms, which modern taxonomy had divided into five kingdoms: monera, protists, fungi, plants, and animals. At present, Earth was dominated by Homo Sapiens, humans belonging to the family Hominidae, the great apes. But her education was clearly lacking, for she had encountered something else tonight, a man who appeared human but clearly wasn't.

There could be no doubt, Dr. Carlisle Cullen belonged in a whole other category. Something different… other.

How was she supposed to come to grips with that? And what was he anyway?

After he had driven away, speeding like a bat out of hell, Bella had strayed into the lonely road, her shell-shocked expression directed at his dwindling tail-lights until she had lost sight of him. _How... what? _When the chill of the night had forced her to seek shelter inside, Bella's trembling hands had plucked the scarf and jacket he had dropped in the driveway. Now the items were draped over the opposing chair, their very presence confirming the realness of what she had experienced tonight—what Bella had witnessed and felt in the moments following her tumble, a fall Carlisle had somehow managed to stop in time. _What_ is _he?_

Despite being on edge, it was a good thing her father had called to say that he'd be pulling a late one. Coincidentally, Audrey had texted her to say that she was going on a date with a really nice guy—a postal worker who delivered mail at their work. In her message, Audrey had mentioned his name, but for the life of her, Bella couldn't remember if it was Jim or Tim or Tom. As happy as she was for her friend, the guy's name wasn't important right now.

As unsettled as she was, Bella was actually grateful to be alone. Her mind was racing with questions that needed answering. To that end, she was now sitting in her father's kitchen, where she had been jotting down notes for the better part of an hour.

The first few pages were a mess of random observations, many of them written at odd sizes and angles over the horizontal lines. Needing to organize her melee of clues, Bella ripped those messy pages to reveal a fresh one. And there, with her pen furiously scratching within the lines, she wrote:

_1)_ _Superhuman speed/reflexes_

_2)_ _Body temperature unnaturally cold._

_3) His breath is cool._

_4)_ _Body feels like stone._

Bella swallowed, her fingers threading through her hair for the third time in a row. Even now, the alien feel of him returned to her racing mind, a tactile memory so vivid, Bella knew she would never forget it. Going back to the moment he had loosened his hold on her, she positioned her pen on the page, and wrote another clue.

_5) __Weird golden eyes actually change color. _

Now Bella paused in deliberation. On the same line, she added, _Feral gaze?_ Her pen skipping to the next line, she recalled the most troubling moment of the night. The moment when he had taken a breath and shuddered.

_6) __Growling. _

It hadn't been this throaty fake growl either, not like when someone was pretending to be a bear or a tiger—which would have been weird enough. No, this growl had radiated from deep within his chest. A low rumbling sound that radiated outward, reaching her body through their clothes. That's how close they had been, how tightly he had clutched her body to his, like he had wanted to own and possess her. For a mercy, Carlisle had snapped out of it. Then his entire demeanor had changed, his predatory gleam yielding to a profound sense of agony and shame.

Not knowing what to think or how to feel, Bella remembered some of the things she had first noted about him. Things she had dismissed at the time, but seemed all-too-relevant now.

_7) __Skin is deathly pale. No imperfections/looks airbrushed. _

_8) __Features are beautiful beyond belief._

_9) __Smells amazing/enticing (not sure it's cologne)_

As the coffee-maker puffed and puttered, the slow drip nearing its end, Bella added a question to the ninth line. _Venus flytrap thing?_

Indeed, she couldn't help but think of the carnivorous plant whose sweet nectar lured its victims. A plant whose common name referred to Venus, the Roman goddess of love. Even the genus name, Dionaea, which she remembered from a recent article in National Geographic, meant "daughter of Dione", or Aphrodite, the Greek goddess of—_drumroll_—love.

Carlisle Cullen was beauty personified, and Bella wasn't the only one who noticed.

_10) __Women drool over him (spellbound like they're in a trance.) _

While the coffee-maker hissed in the background, signalling that her caffeine fix was ready, she was reminded of the time Carlisle had swung by her hospital room for morning rounds. Her cheeks warming at the memory, she wrote:

_11) __My reaction during checkup (what the fuck was that?)_

Upon laying eyes on him, her physical and psychological response had been so visceral, so out of the norm. It shamed her to acknowledge it, but Carlisle could have asked her anything in that moment—to marry him, sleep with him, whatever—her answer would have probably been a desperate yes. At least in that moment. When he'd left, the spell had dissipated, and Bella had promptly felt like herself again.

For some reason she couldn't explain, that heady, artificial feeling no longer materialized in his presence. Instead, Bella harboured a genuine affinity toward the good doctor, a sense of comfort that had lasted until he had done the impossible and stopped her fall tonight.

Given how frazzled she still was, Bella shouldn't be craving coffee. But the beverage called to her, prompting her to rise and fill her cup. Upon her return to the table, her thoughts veered away from his allure, turning instead to the opposite side of the coin.

_12) __Some people are naturally wary/frightened of him._

_13) __He sniffed me like I was a meal. Predator/prey dynamics? _

Or was it something else? Something more covetous, bordering on erotic. A frisson went through her; she was startled to find it wasn't the bad kind. Pushing this sudden and crazy feeling aside, Bella raised her coffee mug to her mouth, and concentrated on her list, adding:

_14) __Dangerous?_

It was a reasonable question to ask, yet the idea of linking that particular word to Carlisle seemed almost profane. He who was so sweet, unassuming, and kind.

Now a new list was forming. With calming nerves, Bella wrote four additional points.

_15) __Saved my life. _

_16) __Concerned about me lifting groceries._

_17) __Looked me over after I fell._

_18) __Seemed genuinely relieved that I was okay._

Then, when he had crawled away from her, Bella had seen the look on his haunted face. Beneath his growing anguish, his remorse had been clear as glass.

No. Whatever he was, Carlisle posed no danger to her. Without knowing how or why, Bella simply knew it to be true.

With a glance at her discarded drafts, Bella listed other details, other clues.

_19) __Drives like a madman._

_20) __Never works on sunny days._

There was a pause. Lips pursed, she wrote:

_21) __Hates the sun? _

It would explain why he had suddenly changed his mind about leaving tonight. For the westering sun had chosen that moment to peek out of the clouds, casting warm light over the driveway. Thinking back to the moment she had entered Charlie's living-room, only to find that some of the drapes had been closed…

If the question on line twenty-one was correct, those things now made perfect sense.

And so the list went on.

_22) Spends a lot of time in the wilderness._

_23) Hikes by the highway even during rainstorms._

Those last two points were truly baffling. What was he doing out there in the woods? Moving on to another thing she had noticed—only in hindsight, though—Bella guided her pen along the page.

_24) Only ate chocolate when I insisted._

That time outside the hospital, when he had brought her a mug of hot water and a selection of herbal teas.

Bella frowned. _Speaking of tea_…

_25) Didn't even touch his beverage tonight._

A beverage he had asked for.

Bella's pulse quickened in nervousness. She wasn't quite ready to ponder the meaning of this one. Not after the sniffing incident.

The following minute passed in complete silence. As this surreal puzzle began to take shape, Bella twirled her pen a few times. Fingernails tapping against the old wooden table, she glanced out the window, and thought of her longtime friend. She started writing again.

_26) Jacob hates him._

_27) History/Feud with the tribe._

_28) Quileutes are boycotting the hospital._

Realization kindled within her.

_They know. The Quileutes know what he is. _

Like a cold case detective who suddenly catches a lead, Bella felt a surge of nervous excitement and energy. It was a rush, if truth be told. An impossible game of connect-the-dots that she was suddenly winning—or was on her way to winning.

Yes, she could solve this mystery. She would. _Am I crazy for pursuing this? _Probably. But right now, Bella didn't care. She already had a plan. A plan consisting of a taxi ride and a long overdue visit to the place where answers were most likely to lie.

Bella was going to La Push alright.

_Tomorrow_, she thought and gained her feet.

After tossing her coffee down the drain, Bella unplugged the coffee-maker, and gathered her notes. With steely determination, she then grabbed Carlisle's jacket and scarf, carrying them up the stairs and into her room. Because Charlie wasn't one to snoop, Bella pinned her lists of clues to the empty corkboard.

Once she had changed into her pajamas and was lying in bed, she stared at the pages for what seemed like hours. When her eyes finally started drooping, Bella surrendered to exhaustion.

It was the first night she dreamed of Carlisle Cullen.

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**Thank you for reading chapter 11. Sorry chapter 12 is taking a bit longer. But fear not, I'm hoping to update really soon. **

**Reviews are much appreciated. Favs and follows are cool, too. ;-)**


	12. Chapter 12 - Confrontation

**To all who have been reading this story, thank you! Your continued interest has meant the world to me.**

**HaldirLove, catgrl, Ruiniel, kouga's older woman, Kayozm, TheBlueWilderness, leward1992, Sassyass7515, Goldielover, Currently Elsewhere, Synphonia, Guest, and Nissa-Cullen, thank you for the reviews! **

* * *

**CHAPTER 12**

**CONFRONTATION**

Rosalie knew something was off the second the house—or the driveway rather—came into view. For one thing, there were long sweeping tire marks on the ground, which meant that someone—most likely Carlisle—had skidded to a swerving stop near the front steps.

Concerned, Rosalie gradually engaged the break, and lowered the window. She hadn't imagined it; there was a faint smell of motor oil in the air. Scanning the ground, Rosalie spotted the viscous liquid, droplets that began at a small puddle near the front steps, trailing all the way to the closed garage.

With her car now at a stop, Rosalie put her BMW in park, and turned off the ignition. With a press of a button, she activated the garage door, and warily exited her car.

As the door rose on a sluggish _whir_, Rosalie recognized the Mercedes' 16-spoke light-alloy wheels. The rest of Carlisle's vehicle, however, was covered in a tarp.

_What in God's name_…

Throwing a worried glance at the house, Rosalie entered the garage, and yanked the tarp away from the car.

"Oh, hell no." Her nostrils flared even as fear coiled in her gut. "Son of a…"

If the car had been dented from the outside, Rosalie would have reasoned that someone had smashed into it. But that wasn't what she saw. The Mercedes had been destroyed alright, but not from the outside. Clearly, a pissed off vampire had done this. And this being Carlisle's car, well…

No longer bothering with human speed, Rosalie dropped the tarp and hurried into the house.

Following her sire's scent, she tracked him to the living-room beside the kitchen, where he was sitting in profile, his elbows resting on his knees, his head cradled in his hands.

His feet were bare, she noted, and his damp hair fell over his brow in messy waves. As she stopped by the island, taking in his dark blue V-neck t-shirt and loose-fitting jeans, Rosalie had to suppress her trepidation.

In the eighty-two years since her transformation, she had witnessed many moods in Carlisle—from quiet joy after saving a life at work, to the worry he had often born toward Edward, even the air of loneliness that always clung to him—but never had she seen him quite like this.

At present, Carlisle had the outward appearance of a man who was utterly broken. A picture of regret if ever there was one. Because she had never been comfortable with heart-to-hearts, Rosalie reacted by hardening her features. In lieu of gently feeling out the reason behind his actions and mood, she opted for bluntness instead. "I saw you punched your car."

At this, he gave a sigh, and met her gaze at long last. "I did."

"Do you mind telling me why?" Yeah, Rosalie was pissed about the car, but her fear was greater than her anger at this point.

"I committed a grave error in judgement, Rose." His blond head fell forward again. As he toyed with his ring, her sire and brother whispered, "A royal fuck up."

Rosalie's jaw went slack. She blinked. _Holy shit_. Carlisle had said a curse word. He had dropped an _actual_ F-bomb. _But… he never swears_, she marvelled in quiet horror.

Whatever this was, it was serious.

"What'd you do, Carlisle?" she asked as alarm bells rang through her mind.

Heaving a cheerless breath, he stared at the floor for a moment. Then, with a wretched expression on his face, Carlisle met her eyes and finally told her what he had done.

* * *

"This is unbelievable. Out of the three of us, I never thought you'd be the one to pull something like this."

Rosalie was pacing the living-room, the hem of her long chiffon blouse billowing in her wake.

"I'm sorry. Rose, I—"

"No." She whirled to face him, pointing a finger at his face when she seethed. "You don't get to apologize right now. Because right now, we have to get the hell out of here." Mouth set in a line, Rosalie turned and left the room at vampire speed.

"Wait!"

When Carlisle caught up with her in the garage, Rosalie was retrieving their go bags.

"I can't believe this," she muttered to herself as she opened the zipper to reveal wads of cash and the various IDs they kept inside. "Barely a year into our current lives and we have to move again."

"Rosalie—"

But she was already moving, re-entering the house at wind-inducing speed.

"Hey, will you wait a minute?" Carlisle raced after her as she went to retrieve their laptops from their home office. "We are _not_ leaving just yet," he stated from the doorway, and saw the disbelief on her angelic face.

"She knows, Carlisle. She has to." With that, Rosalie brushed past him again, and made for the upper level of the house. "Maybe she won't be able to put a name to what you are, but she definitely knows you're not normal."

They were in her room now, a space he wasn't used to being in. Smothering his discomfort, Carlisle said, "But if she doesn't say anything—"

Once again, his companion interrupted him. By chuckling. As incredulous laughter bubbled in her throat, Rosalie shook her head. "Are you really willing to risk our lives over that gamble? She's the police chief's daughter for crying out loud! What if she tells him, huh? What then? The Volturi could have our asses for this. You and me. And maybe even Edward." Tossing her things on a sofa, she grabbed a suitcase from the closet and started shoving clothes into it. "Fuck this."

Carlisle clenched his teeth, for anger had welled within him, eroding the last of his patience. "I am the leader of this coven and you _will_ listen to me!"

Silence engulfed the room. He was as stunned as she looked. Indeed, the last time Carlisle had raised his voice and asserted his dominance in such a way, Rosalie had been a vengeful and nearly uncontrollable newborn.

To gain mastery over his rioting emotions, he lowered his gaze to the white area rug. Maybe Rosalie was right. Maybe the wisest course would be to bail right now. But the idea of leaving filled him with such panic and dread, Carlisle had little choice but to hearken to his intuition.

"I recognize my mistake," he offered at length, his tone softening once more. "And I acknowledge the risks I've been taking of late. But if Isabella doesn't say anything, there's no reason why we couldn't stay in Forks." Enjoying several more years before their lack of aging forced them to move elsewhere. "All I'm asking for is a few days. To feel things out and see if we really need to move or not."

_Please_, he almost begged but didn't. As coven leader, he wouldn't.

After a few endless seconds, Rosalie crossed her arms. "Very well. But for all of our sakes, I hope her silence is not wishful thinking."

Carlisle released the breath he hadn't known he'd been holding. "Thank you, Rose. I'll take one of the jeeps. I'll drive by the hospital and the police station this afternoon. I'll stop and listen in to see if anyone is talking about us."

"What about the chief's daughter? Are you going to drive by her house, too?" There was no mistaking the silent warning in her tone.

His dead heart growing heavier in his chest, Carlisle answered that he wouldn't. "I won't go near her house."

As guarded as she was, Rosalie seemed relieved to hear it. "I'll need her address."

Carlisle went tense all of a sudden, a protective growl threatening to escape his tightening chest. "Why do you need her address?"

"I won't drop in for a visit, if that's what you're thinking. I just want to listen in, make sure she isn't gabbing to her father or her friends about the strange man who growled at her last night."

Seeing the lingering concern on his face, Rosalie assuaged his fears by saying, "She won't know I'm there. I promise."

Now it was his turn to relent. "Alright."

After relaying the address, Carlisle had turned and was halfway out the door when his companion spoke again. "Why'd you do it?"

Facing her once more, he waited for her to elaborate. She did.

"You're the most disciplined vampire I know. Hell, you resisted draining your own singer." A slight frown marred her forehead, her voice noticeably softer when she said, "So then my question is why? Knowing what she was to you, why didn't you stay away afterward? Why did you have to spend all that extra time with her? Are you drawn to her or something?"

His silence must have confirmed it, for Rosalie's eyes widened. "That's it, isn't it? You have a thing for her. Carlisle, she's human. You _can't_."

His frozen heart seized, and he opened his mouth to speak, to say, "_Don't you think I know that?_" but the words never had a chance to form, for a sound was filtering through the exterior wall, intruding on their conversation. A hurried pattering of paws from way out in the forest. At first, the rhythmic rustle was quite faint, but then it got louder and louder, making it clear that the animals were headed straight for their house.

As they both realized what this meant, Carlisle and Rosalie shared a panicked look before hastening outside. Standing on their front steps, they watched the surrounding woods until a familiar stench reached their noses. That of wet dog. More than one.

"Wolves," was all Rosalie said. With an accusing glance at Carlisle, she squared her shoulders toward the woods. The growl she gave heightened the crackling tension in the air. They waited.

Since Charlie Swan was close with some of the Quileutes, they both assumed that Bella has said something about what had happened last night, and now the Wolves were on their way to issue a warning or settle the score. Hoping for the former, Carlisle watched the forest, and placed a hand on Rosalie's forearm. "If they want to talk, let them. We don't attack first."

No sooner had these words left his mouth, than three large wolves came into view. As they wove their way between the trees, their pace slowing to a wary prowl, the furry beasts fixed their eyes on Carlisle and Rosalie. With teeth bared, they emerged from the forest, and came to a stop near the edge of the driveway. The middle one—the largest of the three—had a reddish coat and a mean snarl. Out of the three wolves, he was the only one to un-phase. Before doing so, however, he moved behind Rosalie's BMW, which earned him an answering growl from the blond vampire.

Recalling the night the shape-shifters had showed up in the hospital parking lot, Carlisle immediately recognize the man's face. It was Jacob Black.

Bending at the waist, he seemed to be donning pants. It was then that Carlisle noticed that the other wolves had denim packages attached to their back legs. Not packages, he realized, but rolled up pairs of denim shorts or pants.

"Hello," Carlisle stated warily. "What brings you out here this morning?"

As the two remaining wolves growled in response, Jacob, who was clearly the leader of the pack, stepped out from behind Rosalie's vehicle. Indeed, he was now wearing knee-length shorts, his features hard and uncompromising when he said, "Didn't you hear? Someone was snatched behind the Thriftway last night."

Though relieved that the wolves weren't here because of Bella, Carlisle was deeply troubled nonetheless. Exchanging a puzzled and worried glance with Rosalie, he answered, "This is news to us. We had not heard of this."

"Is that so?" Jacob crossed his arms in front of his muscled chest. "You know it's funny, when we went to have a look, there was vamp stench all over the area."

If Carlisle and Rosalie had had a pulse, and actual blood running through their veins, their faces would have blanched by several shades. Because they were living amongst humans, having a rogue vampire in the area could cause a mess for them.

With a cautious but nonthreatening posture, Carlisle said, "I assure you, if there was a vampire hunting behind the Thriftway, it wasn't us." When he looked at Rosalie, she confirmed his assertion with a terse nod of her head.

But Jacob didn't seem convinced. "So you say."

Rosalie scoffed at this. "And here I thought dogs had a good sense of smell. Go on, Fido."

"Easy, Rose," Carlisle warned at the same time.

But Rosalie was undaunted, her steely gaze fixed on Jacob when she said, "Take a whiff. I guarantee you that the scent doesn't match ours."

The wolves snapped their teeth at that. The black one even took a threatening step forward. But Jacob took Rosalie up on her challenge. His nostrils flaring, he sniffed the air a few times, and ultimately conceded her point with a grudging nod.

"Fine." Jacob flexed his jaw. "But remember the rules. If one of you steps out of line, you're both dead. Oh wait…" Now he breathed a sardonic laugh. "I forgot. You already are."

With that, he turned and leapt, his body contorting as he burst into wolf form. Because he hadn't bothered to remove his shorts, the denim garment ripped and fell to the ground in tattered pieces.

And just like that, as quickly as they had arrived, the wolves were gone, the sound of their racing paws dwindling in the distance.

"Well, this day just went from bad to worse," Rosalie said in the ensuing silence. Her high heels clicking as she went, the blond retreated into the house with a clipped, "Fantastic."

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**So here was chapter 12. Sorry it's a shorter chapter. Initially, I had wanted to include Bella's POV in it, but because I haven't had as much writing time this week, I figured I would give you these scenes to read. Next, we'll catch up with Bella and her trip to La Push. **

**To all who have been following this story, thanks for giving it a chance. As always, reviews are much appreciated. Favs and follows are awesome, too. **

**Until next time!**

**CygnusRift**


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